#stiles pov

[whitedahlia13]

I thought that I was dreaming (when you said you loved me)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Stiles + Lydia

Words: 3246

Rating: Teen

Summary: He slept out of sheer desperation, and the dreams resumed. Every night, without fail. Always the same dream, down to the last detail. Always with the same abrupt, unsettling end.

Every night, for the past three weeks, Stiles has been with her. She already has a permanent place in his mind, his heart, his soul. She visits him in his dreams now too.

Lydia.

Admittedly, this is not entirely uncharted territory. He’s had the occasional dream about her as far back as he can remember.

But it’s not like before. He’s not just the boy with hyperactive tendencies who sits behind her in biology class. She’s not just the girl he’s had a crush on since the third freaking grade.

Things have changed. Through several twists of fate and chance and hope, their lives have become intertwined in an irrevocable way. They’ve become friends. Best friends. Family. He can no more bear the thought of his life without Lydia than he can his dad or Scott.

So yeah, when you love someone that much, they’re bound to make an appearance in your dreams every now and then.

But sometimes, every now and then becomes every single night. Those are the dreams that feel like something more. The ones that seem to come with a warning.

Read More: ao3 & ffnet

Like after the lunar eclipse. For months, she was beside him in all her sleepy-eyed perfection – comfy pajamas, hair down, no makeup. She would rub his shoulder and hold his hand and speak to him in the softest tone, trying to keep him from drifting away… if he had just been smart enough to listen.

He wasn’t though, and everything after was dark and chaotic and wrong. And then he didn’t sleep at all. And then it’s hard to remember…

He was in the hospital. Three days of being poked and prodded, and white-knuckling it through tests and retests, and blacking out into oblivious drug-induced sleep. He went home. Three more days of waking and grieving and numbness and insomnia before the funeral.

His dad and Scott were there, as much as they could be. Lydia was there, sleeping in his bed, pestering him to eat and take his medicine, patiently waiting for him to return to the land of the living.

Eventually, and to his everlasting shame, he insisted she go home.

She tried to play it cool, but he knows his words hurt her. He knows because, even pursed, her lips quivered, and her fingers fumbled for her keys, and her voice cracked when she said, see you at school. He could hardly look her in the eye, but he swears he saw her shoulders shake when she walked out of the room, taking all the light with her.

He made Lydia cry. Something he promised himself he would never do.

He made himself cry too. Even though he didn’t think he had any tears left, he cried bucket’s worth. He hopes she never knows the level of self-inflicted pain he caused; how he ached for her, how his body violently retched, rejecting his betrayal from the inside out, how his mind tortured him with images of what could have been… if he had just been smart enough to listen to her.

The worst part is… He had to do it. Lydia was making him whole and human again. He doesn’t deserve to feel that way.

In her absence, he sat in silence, straining to hear the echoes of her voice. He stared into the dead spaces she had been filling with life – the empty chair at his desk, the grey hoodie she’d been borrowing, the left side of his bed.

But he couldn’t bring her back.

So he cleared the clutter from his wall, tried to wipe the slate clean. But the holes left by pushpins and the black newsprint that transferred onto blue paint told a different story. And the red string was tangled around his fingers…and he couldn’t let go.

He slept out of sheer desperation, and the dreams resumed. Every night, without fail. Always the same dream, down to the last detail. Always with the same abrupt, unsettling end.

Only he isn’t completely sure he’s dreaming, and she is no version of the girl with whom he grew up and into love.

Now he sees Lydia the banshee… the harbinger of death.

* * *

He’s in a forest. There is no moon nor any stars to guide him. It’s hopelessly dark, and cold, and damp, and…suffocatingly close. There is rushing water somewhere nearby, a stream or a river, he assumes. He contemplates following it, but something keeps him stagnant… an added layer of gloom hovering over his shoulder, this overbearing shadow-presence which he fears as much as recognizes as his own. It has a voice, and it whispers to him. Your fault your fault your fault…

He wants to cover his ears and close his eyes and shut it all out.

But he can’t, because that’s when he sees her.

She’s almost floating through the maze of trees, black hooded cape trailing behind her. Even from a distance, he can distinguish the sound of her ethereal sobs over the static noise of the current. She’s searching for something…or someone. He thinks it must be Allison.

He tries to get closer, heedlessly meandering along the bank of the river he can still only hear and smell. He’s clumsy, bare feet skidding on slack soil. It’s a struggle, but he keeps going, ignoring the talons of undergrowth that relentlessly snag his pajamas. With each step comes the sting of fresh cuts and scrapes… a sharp rock here, a gnarled root or a fractured twig there, every one of them seemingly aimed at his soles.

Somehow, he gets within arm’s reach of her, halting when he notices the mirrored representation of every cut he sustained, etched into her skin. She’s bruised and bleeding, and it’s the worst kind of proof of the damage he inflicts on the people he loves.

He feels sick. There’s too much blood. Maybe it’s a trick, a treacherous combination of shadow and mist. He blinks and sees the ugly truth. It isn’t the superficial cuts and scrapes making her bleed but rather the steel trap clamped around her ankle – just like the one that day in the preserve.

He never saved her. Not even that one time. He is always too late. And now—

She doesn’t deserve this. It should be him. Not her. He wishes it were his ankle instead.

Does she know that? Does she know he would bleed for her? That he would do anything – anything to take her pain away?

He scrambles to close the distance between them, but one leg is immobilized. He looks down, only to find that an identical trap has ensnared his ankle.

It should hurt.

He hasn’t forgotten that living nightmare… alone and cold and terrified in what he thought was the basement of Eichen House, the agony of steel teeth, biting clear through to the bone.

It should hurt, but it doesn’t.

Gathering every ounce of defiance left in him, he fights the restraint. His heart should be pounding against his ribs and his lungs should be panting for oxygen. Instead, he feels…nothing. Nothing but the dead weight of metal jaws and the unseen source of its will, dragging him further from where he wants to be.

He cries her name.

She turns, but her face is barely visible to him, just enough to see her stoic expression, just enough to witness the steady trickle of crystalized tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.

It’s always the same dream.

He prepares to make one final, frantic attempt to reach her, knowing this is when he’ll wake up.

Except this time, something feels different. This time, for the first time, he lets himself consider that the person Lydia has been searching for is him.

The moment he does, her tears begin to melt into droplets, and the drab cape that has been shrouding her small frame falls slowly from her shoulders, puddling on the ground, and then…

There’s light. Her light. A blinding, brilliant, beautiful light that somehow doesn’t hurt his eyes. It reveals everything to him... Waves of strawberry-blonde he knows to smell like crisp apples. Skin so pale it appears translucent, but which he knows to be a solid thing, soft and warm and real. Cheeks the color of rose petals. Lips he tasted once, sweet as honey. The entire forest around them – every trunk and branch, every scale of bark and newborn bud, every dewy leaf, cluster of moss, and speck of soil. A sky full of stars and a silver moon.

Her arms unfurl like wings, every inch of her flowy, white dress swirling like a cloud of gossamer.

She looks like an angel. His angel, who he sent away, pushed aside for her own good…or so he told himself.

Now, he can’t take his eyes off her. He’s afraid if he does, she will disappear, this powerful pristine beauty, glowing and radiating warmth, only evidence that she is anything more than a phantasm triggered by love and memory – her bare feet, stained by blood and earth.

He reaches again, confounded by the sight of a ghoulish, bandaged hand. His hand. One that played a part in Allison’s demise.

Lydia saved his best friend’s life, and he is the reason hers died. Him and his weakness.

He shouldn’t touch her, but he can’t stop himself from trying. He’s lost his mind, rabid with longing. It’s no use pretending every cell in his body isn’t drawn to hers. He needs her. He needs her to forgive him. So he flails, wretched fingers stretched towards her, pleading for absolution that only she can give.

And she doesn’t shy away. She reaches back.

This time, they touch, and the bandages start unravelling from his fingers, his palm, his wrist. They disintegrate into ash and disperse with the wind…

He’s mesmerized. Her eyes are gleaming like two sparkling emeralds.

Stiles… she breathes, delicate wisp of a voice filling the entire forest like a melody.

He feels his heart and his lungs again, thumping and swishing in tandem.

He can finally feel her again, skin on skin, fingers knotting together and tethered with red string. He follows the length of it…down…down…all the way to her ankle…and his.

There is no trace of blood. No cuts. No bruises. Only red string.

What do the different colors mean? she asks.

And red miraculously morphs into orange…then yellow…then green to match her eyes.

Green is solved, he answers.

Her other hand lifts to his face, fingertips tenderly grazing his cheek. So, what are you waiting for?

What?

Stiles, you have to wake up.

No, he shakes his head. No, I don’t wanna leave you. Not again.

Then don’t. Wake up. Come back to me.

Lydia…

Come back to me.

Come back.

I love you…

* *

* * *

* *

I love you. Stiles, you have to wake up. Please, wake up. Stiles, I’m here. Come back to me. Please, come back. I can’t do this without you.

His head feels…fuzzy. There is a disconnect between his mind and body; it takes a long time for the muscles that control his eyelids to respond to the signal his brain is sending to them.

Ultimately, they do open, and the space around him gradually comes into focus. It’s dark, but he isn’t in the forest. He’s in his room, tucked into his bed. Gone are the musky scents of river and moss. Now, there is only the crisp fragrance of apples, and a wonderful warm weight on his chest.

Lydia.

She is with him, and he’s relieved and happy. But she’s weeping, vibrations of her body transferring to his, cool moisture soaking his tee shirt. He strokes her crown, hair like silk gliding under his palm as he says her name.

She gasps, and the quaking stops, both of them frozen for a stolen moment. Then she lifts her head to look at him, blue luster of the moon filtering through the windows, illuminating twin streams of tears that cascade over her lashes. They glisten, refracting her radiant light like a prism.

“You’re here,” he stupidly remarks.

She says nothing, just looks at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, two tightly made fists still clutching the front of his shirt.

“What happened?”

“You stopped breathing,” she informs him in a whisper.

“How did you—”

“You stopped breathing,” she repeats, this time like an accusation.

“I didn’t know. I thought I was dreaming.”

But as he speaks, his fingers gravitate to his lips, sweet taste of honey that lingers there suddenly making sense.

“I thought I lost you.” She is still lying half on top of him, hiccupping over her sobs. “I—I—”

“Shh… You didn’t. I’m okay.” He gets his arms around her, hugs her close while the words she said in his dream echo in his mind, and his heart, and his soul…

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“I did though, didn’t I?”

He takes hold of her shoulders, putting just enough space between them so he can see her face when he asks, “Is that why you came here? Because you thought you lost me?”

She sits up, offendedly backing away. “If you want me to go—”

“No.” He rushes to stop her, but his system must be more shocked than he realized because it takes far more effort than it should.

Lydia sees him stumble, and she hesitates.

It grants him just enough of a reprieve to catch her hand. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t want you to go. I never wanted you to go.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, you sure fooled me,” she snips.

“Lydia, give me a chance to explain.”

She quits resisting his grasp. “I’m listening.”

“I thought I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because...” His jaw involuntarily clenches. “Because it was my fault.”

The tension visibly leaves her, head tilting to one side, shoulders lowering. “No, it wasn’t.” She sits next to him, voice unwavering when she emphasizes, “It wasn’t.”

They idle in silence, joined hands nestled in a mound of sheets, shortage of light making it feel like there is nothing in the room but them.

“I’m still sorry,” he sighs. “For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to smother you.”

Her apology makes his already battered heart squeeze too tightly. It could never be like that. Not with her. But his actions made Lydia doubt herself. Something else he promised himself he would never do.

“Lydia, you didn’t. You were perfect.” He pushes her hair behind her shoulder so she can’t conceal her face. “Truth is…you were exactly what I needed. I still need you. It’s scary, how much I need you.”

“How much we need each other,” she revises with an almost inaudible sniffle.

“I know.”

“You hurt me.”

He’s aware of how difficult it is for her to admit this, the level of trust it takes for her to let someone in, to let them know her heart…and its vulnerabilities.

“I know that too, and I hate myself for it. But it’s the last thing I ever wanted. You’ve gotta believe that.”

“I do.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, nudging her to make eye contact, “I hurt me too.”

She shrugs, but then she gives in to a small smirk. “How badly?”

“We’re talking devastated.”

“Be more specific.”

“Like…I’ve been going out of my freaking mind without you.”

Her smirk broadens into a smile.

“Like…I literally can’t breathe without you,” he continues.

“Stiles…”

“Too soon?”

“Much,” she glares. “But I get it.”

“Does that mean you can forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you. Just…don’t do it again, don’t push me away when—”

“I won’t. I swear,” he assures her, leaning his forehead against hers. “We’re stronger together anyway.”

“Yeah, we are.”

Weeks’ worth of aching and regretting and missing reshapes into a hug. They hold on to each other for a long time. All the while, Lydia’s heartbeats fill the empty spaces between his.

He can’t let her go. This is how it’s supposed to be.

“Will you stay with me?”

She nods. “As long as you don’t hog the covers.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he chuckles.

She kicks off her shoes, and they lie down together, and when Lydia rests her head on his chest rather than the pillow, Stiles feels closer to being whole and human again.

He twirls the ends of her hair like he did before, all those times they were sprawled on his bed with books and their thoughts, conversing and problem solving into the early morning hours.

Now, her voice breaks a little when she says his name, and for a second, he thinks she’s going to ask him to stop, tell him they can’t go back to the way things were.

But she doesn’t. Her fingers smooth over the place where the covers traverse his heart, and she whispers, “You know how I know it wasn’t your fault?”

“How?”

There’s a protracted pause before she answers, “Because it was mine.”

“What makes you think that? You tried to warn her.”

“It didn’t help.”

He loops his other arm around her, flattening his palm on her spine. “But that’s no one’s fault. Allison loves you. She was always going to try to save you. You would have done the same. You did do the same.”

“I guess. But…”

“What?”

“There was this moment – this moment in the tunnels when I knew one of us wasn’t going to make it out of there, and I thought… Not him. And then she…”

Her admission sends his heart racing; he can hardly hear his own reply over the ocean-like thrashing in his ears.

“You don’t really believe that’s what caused things to happen the way they did.”

“I know it’s not rational. But sometimes, I still wonder and, at the same time…I can’t.” She trembles ever so slightly when she asks, “Do you understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” I can’t imagine my life without you either.

It gets quiet again, so quiet he thinks she must have fallen asleep until her knuckles begin raking across his sternum.

“How much of what I said earlier did you actually hear?”

He has a strong suspicion about what she is getting at, but he proceeds with caution. That’s how things work between them. Slow and steady. Take a breath before the leap.

“Um…I heard you telling me to wake up, to come back to you.”

“Anything else?”

“There was one other thing, but I was sorta in the middle of a dream so...”

“What was it?”

He inhales sharply, closes his eyes, and dives in. “I love you. I thought you said, I love you.”

And Lydia dives in with him. “I did. I do. I love you. So…you can’t leave me. You can’t,” she stresses.

He feels the heat from her cheek seeping right through his shirt. “I won’t,” he promises. “I don’t want to be where you aren’t.”

“Me neither,” she exhales.

For the first time in months, Stiles feels some semblance of peace. He knows Lydia feels it too. It’s in the way she snuggles closer and the relaxed cadence of her breathing.

He waits until she’s half asleep. “Lydia?”

“Hmm…”

“I love you too,” he tells her.

He knows she will hear him.

Even in her dreams, Lydia will hear him.

#stydia #stiles and lydia #stiles #lydia martin #I thought that I was dreaming (when you said you loved me) #stiles pov #post 3b #angst #dreams #trauma #coping #emotional h/c #confessions #loss #grief #longing #missing someone #emotional tethers #unspoken connection #finding their way back #the power of love #true love #my writing #my fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #that's my otp #friendly writing challenge #(meander ghoulish phantasm bank) #remember I love queue

[teencopandthesourwolf]

If he were to be true to himself, which he generally isn't when it comes to this shit, Derek knew he was fucked the very first time he met Stiles Stilinski—no, actually, that's not entirely accurate. It was before that. He was fucked the second he smelled the kid's unique scent hitching a ride on the damp breeze that cut through Beacon Hills preserve on that fateful day, just over two years ago, when Derek stood on his family's land and tapped a claw against the plastic casing of the inhaler he'd found. The inhaler he'd sniffed out from the undergrowth in the middle of the night. The inhaler sitting inside the pocket of his dead Dad's leather jacket that he'd recovered from the ruins of his childhood home. The inhaler he'd returned the day after he played pretend with himself that it had been him who had bitten Scott McCall.

Derek has been playing pretend ever since.

But how is he supposed to pretend now, with the rogue piece of Stiles's clothing screwed up in his fist and him finally home alone in his own apartment? Worse (or better) is the fact that it's the kid's favourite beloved hoodie, the one he wears all the goddamn time which Derek can tell hasn't seen the inside of a washing machine in a while because of the way it reeks of nothing but pure, unadulterated Stiles.

Stiles's red, red hoodie.

Derek's eyes flash blue to remind him of who he is, at the same time as his fangs drop and his short nails extend into yellowed claws. Absently, he thinks of Little Red and The Big Bad Wolf when his form shifts, his resolve shattering like mirror glass as he accepts his seven years of bad luck with grace the moment he shoves his face into the fabric, now releasing that throaty groan that turns to a low growl then into a sex-hungry, shuddering snarl.

He inhales.

Deep; deeply; deeper.

And Derek is lost to Stiles, forever.

.

(from my current sterek WIP fic—let me know in the comments if you'd like to be tagged when it's up!)

#can't sleep? write #sterek #sterek wip #sterek fic #POV derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf wip #cassidy wips #ooh er missus #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #queer fic #m/m #should be finished with this and be posting in the next few days xp #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

[hedwig221b]

Thinking about my Untouchable...

Thinking about little meow-meow omega Stiles who is so smart he's considered weird... but has his alpha wrapped around his finger... other's go: "yeah he's fucking hot and I'd fuck him once but he's crazy" and therefore Stiles has issues and tries to be normal when Derek starts dating him but he doesn't know Derek considers him fucking genius and loves him because he's so weird

Thinking about alpha Derek who is so obsessed with Stiles he's shaking... Stiles is the only thing he thinks about... he'll drop anything and come to his omega even if it's something small

Thinking about how other alphas laugh at Derek and say: "He has you under his heel, man", and Derek looks at them calmly and says: "Do you know what it is like - to have him? I'd bring him your head if he asked"...

Thinking...

#sterek #i swear to fucking god #they are not letting me go #i have just finished 37k in 2.5 weeks #and have the parrish pov wip fermenting quietly on the upper shelf #and now this #i NEED to write THAT Stiles again with THAT Derek #there is no escape #goddamit I have to write this now don’t I

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any recommendations for fics with Sheriff Stilinski? Like as a major character not just showing up in the background? Or ones that focus on him and Stiles' relationship?

There's not a whole lot where he's the main character. So I have some with sheriff!pov.

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller

(1/1 I 2,699 I Teen I Sterek)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside.

"I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Why deja-vu is a dangerous thing by MsCee

(1/1 I 2,887 I General I Sterek)

When something makes his new deputy seize up like only true love can, John Stilinski is prepared tease the ever-living hell out of him. He’s prepared to look up and see some pretty girl with a bit of an edge, with a loud laugh and a bright smile that could coax even his sullen deputy out of his frown.

What he’s not prepared for is to look up and see a very familiar face ambling towards his desk.

The Morning After by mikkimouse

(1/1 I 3,635 I Teen I Sterek)

After the night he'd had, John just wanted a quiet cup of coffee and some toast before his son woke up. This, he felt, was not too much to ask from the universe.

Apparently the universe disagreed, because John came downstairs at 7:30 in the goddamn morning to see a man he'd previously arrested for murder grinding coffee beans in his kitchen

Promise You'll Look After Him by DiscontentedWinter

(1/1 I 9,901 I Mature I Sterek)

Sheriff Stilinski is used to dealing with victims of violent crime. He knows how to approach kids who've been beaten and sexually assaulted.

Except this time it's his son.

It's Stiles.

Adult Wolf by KouriArashi

(56/56 I 232,475 I Teen I Peter/Sheriff)

As if Sheriff Stilinski doesn't have enough to deal with, now he's been attacked by some enormous dog in the forest, and that's normal compared to what happens next...

Re-telling of seasons 1-3B with Sheriff Stilinski being bitten instead of Scott.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sheriff stilinski #bamf!sheriff stilinski #outsider pov

[littlesarcasticdemon]

Okay so we all know the fics where stiles is kicked out of the pack or the ones where he kind of just becomes part of Derek’s pack after the torture incident really just Scott being a bad friend

Anyway just imagine how funny that shit looks from an outside view like imagine being his classmate and living like across the road from him just being confused why someone who was previously wanted for murder is practically living at the stilinski house or like a person who is known to be dead(Peter) one day just walking out of stiles house or like witnessing Erica Boyd and Isaac sticking to stiles and constantly like touching him at school or like one day this person like overhears one of the pack or Liam calling him mum or whatever

Like I feel like it would be so funny to read just the utter confusion and like I have got to find out what the fuck is happening of that

#teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek hale #tw fanfic #sterek #bad friend scott mccall #peter hale #stiles stilinski #outside pov #fic ideas #erica reyes #scott mccall #isaac lahey #vernon boyd #derek hale #fanfic #crack #crack fanfic #liam dunbar #3am thoughts #3 am posts #three am thoughts #ao3 writer #also if there is a fic like this please tell me I need it

[endwersed]

Writing Patterns

Tagged by @raisesomehale 🥰

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

striking out, (on hiatus) WIP, sterek human college au, 47k

The locker room is just how Derek remembers it.

feels so good inside, sterek human au, 12k

The worst thing about being an eighteen-year-old virgin and loser is, well – being an eighteen-year-old virgin and loser.

i was yours once, stackson into sterek, 9k

Water rains down over Stiles’ head, fat droplets of it catching in his eyelashes as he grits his teeth and presses a tight fist against the tiled wall of the school locker room showers.

in flux, sterek human college au, 25k

By Derek Hale’s junior year of college, he has come to know that there is nothing quite like the party after scoring the winning basket of a game.

another name for love, sterek au, 37k

Derek wakes up to the sound of a door creaking open slowly, a faint and careful noise nudging into his dreamless sleep and dragging him into consciousness.

does one good, sterek pwp, 5.5k

Stiles is still mostly focused on towelling at his damp hair as he pads into the living room of his apartment on bare feet, humming a repetitive tune under his breath and scratching lazily at a patch of skin just under the hem of his t-shirt, over the waistband of his boxers.

as dear as a brother, sterek human au, 10k

Stiles Stilinski meets Scott Delgado on the first day of freshman orientation at Berkeley and immediately knows they’ll be best bros for life.

and i'll write you a tragedy, sterek superhero au, 37k

It’s pretty cool living in a world with superheroes, all things considered.

how fast or how far, sterek human au, 9k

Faint, early morning sunlight streams through the cracks in the blinds, casting a colourful vision against the linoleum tiles as Stiles stands awkwardly in front of the kitchen sink.

baby, you got the keys, sterek human college au, 2k

It’s an unfortunate truth that Stiles didn’t get to take advantage of owning a car practically made for fooling around in during his high school years.

#sterek #my fic #open tag to anyone who wants it! #i definitely love a good college au lol #and i am definitely more comfortable writing from stiles' pov

[outtoshatter]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @dear-massacre, @raisesomehale, and @rosieposiepuddingnpie thank youuuu this is fun!

i'm doing only my last ten over-5k fics, just as a fun little experiment :D

Kingdoms Fall (WIP, M, sterek)

Stiles leaned over the jewel-studded bowl, fluttering his lashes as he breathed in the smoke from the burning herbs at the bottom.

The Price we Pay (66k, T, complete)

Stiles ripped the velvet strip off his face and winced, blinded by flames.

Pulling Strings (53k, M, complete)

Stiles bounced on his toes to fend off the creeping chill of the night, gaze darting impatiently between the road and the clinic.

The Stilinski Method (6k, T, complete)

Derek crept along on the balls of his feet, following tiny paw prints in the soft dirt.

Fractured Starlight (64k, M, complete)

The stretch of road between Beacon Hills and Willow Pass was almost always quiet, although Stiles wouldn’t quite call it peaceful.

Every Step You Take (8k, T, complete)

On a typical day, Stiles Stilinski would say his impulse control was shaky to moderate at worst.

The Next Chapter (105k, M, complete)

The photo ripped down the middle.

End of the End (90k, E, complete)

Stiles spotted the group with difficulty.

The Bright Side of Disaster (5k, T, complete)

The Beacon Hills spring farmers market was never small.

Keep Moving (10k, T, complete)

Derek squinted up, eyeing the clouds creeping in from the west.

okay, i'm not sure what all this says about me or my stories, but. there's at least a little variety here. I think? LOL

tagging uuhhhh @cephalog0d @2dents and @halevetica and anyone else who wants to play!

#writing games #tag games #gia writes #sterek #fic #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #this was. interesting #idk what this says lol #some of it is action #some of it is just talking #i think if i could've gotten to Are You Ready? there would've been more variety lolol #also a disproportionate amount of Stiles POV but that will change soon #did i spell that right #idk #these are mostly public stories so idk why i feel so squirmy about this #maybe because it's just the first line singled out

[hotchfiles]

stiles stilinski + i was all over her 🤞🤞

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a song and one of my boys for a drabble

stiles + salvia palth's i was all over her (back at that party, I was all over her, we didn't make out or do anything, I just remember I was lonely)

i didn't usually drink, alcohol always slowed me down and that was the exact opposite of what i usually wanted. i liked my senses sharp, i needed my senses sharp. being too slow meant losing important clues, missing clues meant an unfinished puzzle. when the puzzle wasn't finished, people died.

a huge responsibility to carry, i never minded it though, it kept me busy, kept my mind busy, made me important, gave me purpose: helping my friends. assisting. being useful.

today none of them needed that assistance though, busy with with college applications, graduation stuff that maybe i should be busying myself with as well, but thinking about that made me uneasy. so today i drink.

more than i should, i admit it.

beacon hills shitty life or death threats have surrounded me for years, being helpful was all i knew. i had no idea what to do, where to go, and watching as my friends so eagerly made plans to leave was unnerving. who was i if not stiles, scott's best friend?

thinking like that could keep me awake at night more than any monster.

so today i drink.

and i watch as people my age have fun, no idea of all the danger there is around, possibly not feeling the weight i felt deep in my soul. i observe many of them before one catches my eyes. girl my age, smile bright. happy. carefree.

the eyes though. heavy. dark. preoccupied. she did something intriguing whenever she went back to the bar, shot of tequila was her only choice, her smile would vanish for a few seconds, take a deep breath and shoot down, shaking her head quickly before going back to her friends. just then, when she was close to them, her smile would appear again.

she seemed lonely, like me today. but she was a better actress than i was, or i just didn't have the company to force myself to act like she did. i couldn't keep my eyes off of her though, some sort of magnetic energy that glued my eyes to her.

maybe she was just beautiful and i was drinking too much. i wanted to talk to her, ask her about the fake smiles, the deep sighs, the tequila, but i didn't want her to meet me like this, and watching her, weirdly, was enough feel less alone.

she noticed the staring, it didn't creep her out apparently. concerning, really, she should be more careful. instead she took something out of the tiniest bag i've ever seen (what does even fit inside those? definitely not a weapon if she ended up needing one) and turned to the bartender, still looking at me as she handed him a piece of paper.

odd. a bit hurtful.

i looked the other way then, but the bartender soon handed me a tequila shot with a paper under it.

her number. guess i wouldn't be so lonely after all.

#lari's 100th #decided to try a 1st person pov type of thing with stiles narrating #shouldnt have done that bc its terrible and i hate it #THANKS ANYWAY THO LOVE U #stiles scenario #stiles x you #stiles x reader #stiles imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you

[the-liminal-place]

#floodgate #sterek #sterek poems #sterek poetry #POV derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf poem #teen wolf poetry #poems #poetry #poets of tumblr #queer poetry #queer poet #liminal words #the-liminal-place

[roughentumble]

like derek pov on always having wanted to be a beta and all the troubles he has trying to live up to the title of Good Alpha and failing that and having to go away and then giving up the alpha mantle to stiles and accepting stiles as his alpha who knows everything and accepts being directed by his alpha would be godly utterly godly

he's not even an attack dog he's a couch dog he just happens to be willing to bite if you break into his house an spook him

#i feel like im not describing this well it sounds too dom/sub when thats not quite the vibe im going for #but its like. derek pov on his struggles and then he sees alpha stiles and at first he's pissed and refuses to joib the pack #but eventually he gives in and its so good for him and it feels so right #to finally have an alpha he could trust and a pack to rely on and the beta position he always wanted to have. what he always expected

[whitedahlia13]

That's Where You'll Find Me

Chapter 1: I'm Not Leaving You

Fandom: Teen Wolf / The Wizard of Oz AU

Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Natalie Martin

Summary: Everything stopped. His breaths. His heart. Time.

There was only the two of them and the immensely powerful connection he felt whenever they were within a hundred square miles of each other.

Three days ago, Stiles saved Lydia’s life.

With the help of their friends, he coordinated a rather masterful plan, risked everything to free her from Eichen House.

Eichen House, where she was held against her will, drugged and shocked into altered planes of consciousness, poked and prodded for information she didn’t know how to access.

For weeks, she was trapped. Inside that place. Inside her mind. Always with the threat of what else might be done to her or to her friends. She endured the heartbreak of foreseeing their deaths, one by one. She experienced the excruciating pain and trauma of trepanation when Gabriel Valack, the madman posing as her doctor, drilled a hole into her skull to amplify her banshee abilities.

The brutal and archaic procedure left her in a volatile, virtually nuclear state of supernatural unrest.

But just when it seemed as though all would be lost, Stiles appeared.

I’m not leaving you here, he said.

He meant it too. It was clear in his unwavering tone and soulful eyes that he was ready and willing to go with her – through Hell and back.

When they were separated, she could still hear him, palms pounding on steel, echoes of his screams – Lydia... Ly-d-ia!!! penetrating thecavernous walls of that awful, century-old prison. He didn’t give up. No matter the obstacles he faced, no matter who nor what interfered, Stiles found his way back to her.

Now, whenever he walks into her room, that moment replays in her mind. Stiles bursting through a pair of industrial doors. Stiles running to her with open arms. Stiles promising, We’re gonna get you out of here.

Every time, she feels the same relief, the same awe, the same surge of love for him. Her sweet, sarcastic, occasionally clumsy, super smart, superhero in plaid.

Keep Reading: ao3 & ffnet

#it's finally time stydias!!! #I've missed you so much #I'm so excited to share this with you #stydia #stiles and lydia #stydia fanfic #stydia fic #stiles #lydia martin #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf au #That's Where You'll Find Me #chapter 1 #I'm Not Leaving You #post 5x16 #dual POVs #we're not in Beacon Hills anymore #stydia au #The Wizard of Oz au #my writing #that's my otp #remember I love queue

[liplessthomas14]

You Bit What-!?!?!?!?

Stiles was having a boring dinner of something and thinking about Malia and the notes Malia had burrowed from Lydia which had actually been code written by Lydia and how no one ever answers their damn phones!

His dad was sitting in front of him and chewing god knows what and looking at him with a weird expression on his face. Was that the "you're in so much trouble 'cause I know you ate my totally-not-very-well-hidden midnight snack" look or the "care to tell me what possibly life-threatening news you're hiding?" look?

Whatever, it didn't matter. Thank God for phone calls. "Scotty". Uh, finally. His hand grabbed at his phone before his dad coughed, giving a pointed look.

"No phones during dinner, remember?"

"Wha- but it's important!" He protested "It's Scott and I gotta tell him about the banshee code-"

"What 'banshee code'?"

"Dad you don't just ignore pack phone calls, ok? For all I know Scott could be bleeding to death in an abandoned mine somewhere because Jennifer or someone woke up from the dead and decided to make alpha kebab out of him! How would you feel if you didn't let me answer cause of some dumb rule we made years ago and he ended up dy-"

His dad's phone started ringing- "Deputy Parrish". There was an awkward silence of several seconds, punctuated only by the synchronised ringing of the two phones, before his dad waved a hand in defeat and they both clicked the "answer" button.

"Hey, Scott, is Liam-" Stiles started.

"I buhit uhm shit-" Scott mumbled rapidly, sounding panicked.

"You hit shit??? Ew, gross. Why would you- yo Dad where're you going?" His dad had pulled on a shirt and was pulling his police jacket on.

"Murder at the hospital. Stay. Home." He warned as he started pulling on his shoes.

"Murder!?"

"Yeah Sean," Scott answered, "he's dead. The mouthless guy killed him and Stiles-"

"Wait, Sean? The creep with dead bodies in his cellar?"

"Yeah he was found dead on the roof of the hospital," his dad answered, "Now I might not be back before-"

"So is everyone ok?" Stiles interrupted him, focusing back on Scott. Scott, his mom, Liam, and a few other nurses he'd become close with over the years cause of his mom-they'd all been at the hospital.

"Stiles!" Scott sounded like he was sobbing at this point, "I bit Liam."

Stiles choked on his green peas, letting his fork clatter loudly onto his plate as his nose started to burn painfully.

"You bit-" a pea shot out of his nose, landing on the table in front of him, drowning in snot.

"Woah, you ok?" Scott asked worriedly. His dad shoved a napkin up his nose.

"Gah, I'm fine I'm fine- Dad, stop it- Scott where are you?"

"At home," he whined, "Stiles, I don't know what to do..."

"Ok I'm coming just- hang on." He hung up and rubbed at his nose with the napkin, pushing away from the table.

"I'm going over to Scott's," he called back to his dad as he shoved his feet into his sneakers.

"Stiles, what happen-"

But he was already out the door. Jeez, Scott, what have you done?

#tiny teen wolf one shots #teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #scott and stiles #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf scott #sheriff stilinski #lydia martin #malia tate #teen wolf headcanon #teen wolf hc #liam dunbar #stiles pov of what happened before he saw Laim duct-taped in scotts bathroom #teen wolf fanfiction

[teencopandthesourwolf]

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

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

Was it Laura?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alpha.

Big sister.

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

He never told her about Kate.

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

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

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

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

“What's this for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just—out.”

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

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

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

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

Stiles.

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

He knows all about those.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles's dude.

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

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

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

.

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

#sterek #sterek ficlet #sterek fic #sterek oneshot #POV derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #m/m #queer fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #laura hale #derek and laura #hale pack feels #angst #hurt/comfort #hugs #derek hale deserves nice things #stiles stilinski is a nice thing #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey!! I’m looking for a fic that i believe was outsider perspective of Sterek being regulars at a diner or café??? Like I think the employees shipped them but in the end they were already together.

@thecoolkidsareoutcasts! @hedwig221b says it's this one.

Welcome to Rosie's Diner can I interest you in an eye-opener? by crossroadswrite

(1/1 I 1,999 I Teen I Sterek)

When the unfairly attractive couple walks in, at their usual hour, Kat starts humming the wedding march.

Jason elbows her sharply in the ribs, trying to hide his snicker even as he waves nicely at them.

“Fuck they’re so pretty,” he sighs mournfully, “why did they have to be a couple, that’s just unfair.”

“I know,” she commiserates.

(Or: The one where Stiles and Derek are regulars at Rosie's diner and exactly zero of the employees believe they're not actually a couple, I mean come on look at them.)

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #lost fic #outsider pov

[wellhalesbells]

the thing that fucks me up about rereading instructions for dancing is trying to pinpoint when it is that derek becomes obsessed with stiles and realizing the answer seems to be always. from the beginning. the moment they met. that poor bastard. he probably should have tried to be a little nicer about it, though, saved them both some hardship.

I think it slides so quickly from fear and annoyance that Stiles will steal Scott away to 'Oh no, oh fuck,' I'm not even sure Derek knows himself. Poor guy hamstrung himself by starting out with the 'I'm going to scare him away' mentality then wondering where the hell that went and trying to find it again through almost every subsequent interaction (while something so much bigger and so much worse - Derek's Thoughts™ - completely eclipsed it). Meanwhile Stiles also helps cultivate Derek's dickish-ness by assuming that original motivation to be his only interest in him at all, essentially until the moment Derek tells him he's in love with him.

Which is hopefully why it seemingly comes out of left field for Stiles and the reader, because that's what I wanted.

#i mean you should definitely think: uh ohhh derek caught feeelings before that moment #but since it's stiles and scott pov - they are the bright spots in each other's worlds so they are the focus #and occasionally derek will come along and glow around the edges and distract stiles a bit but that's all he is - a momentary distraction #and he's still that when he finds out that scott may be stiles' bright spot but they don't want each other the way derek wants #and so he blurts out 'i'm in love with you' before someone else shows up to want the same way he does #and since we've been in stiles' head and only gotten to see the moments that define him and derek is in so few of those #he's COMPLETELY thrown for a loop because what do you mean?? how could derek be in love with him?? #how could stiles be all his defining moments and NOT know it y'know? #(because if you got instructions from derek's pov stiles wOULD BE so many of them) #and realizing they are in different places by a lot but not wanting that to mean they can't be anything more to each other says #'give me a chance to catch up' which in my mind is the only thing and the perfect thing #that was the very first scene i wrote for that fic actually - it changed almost ENTIRELY before the end but that line stayed the same #i just love the idea that you can be totally oblivious to something so defining for someone. that people can be such enigmas #inject that shit directly into my veins pls and thank you! #sorry i just love that dynamic so i can yammer on for DAYS about it lol #thank you for the ask and yeah you're pretty dead on about that haha #instructions for dancing #sterek #teen wolf #!ask

[endwersed]

man life must be nice when you're not a sensitive sally

#i've had to add a note on my most recent sterek fic to basically be like... #if you don't like the fic please just... don't read it. you don't have to tell me how much you hate the story and where it's going. #we can part ways silently. it's okay. it's better for my poor sad little heart actually. #i'm trying to write the stiles pov that i'm hoping will bring ppl around to loving him and feeling bad for him like i do #but it's so hard to keep the inspo up when every ping in my inbox is another rant about how he's irredeemable no matter what i write. lol.