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msmischief101 · 3 years

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♙Pairing: Stackson ♙Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani, Brett Talbot, ♙Warnings: [I tried] None ♙Words: 5139 ♙ Stiles Rarepair Week Day 5: future/post-canon exploration

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for @voidstilesplease, I really hope you like it. I tried, I really did 😂

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“So,” Lydia’s dark red lips curl into a dangerous smile, “how was your date?”

Stiles slumps onto the chair next to her, gesturing for a drink. “She was… nice.”

Lydia grimaces. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Not at all. The girl is gorgeous and smart and such a sweetheart. They talked the whole night, Stiles yet again lied about his job while she swooned about being a kindergarten teacher. They even had the same humor and adoration for Star Wars. It should have been perfect. They should’ve been perfect. And yet, halfway through the date, Stiles found himself to be utterly bored. As nice as she is, that’s the problem.

“Sweetheart, if you describe a girl as ‘nice’ after a date, it was exactly that bad.”

Groaning, Stiles puts his head on his arms. “I’m doomed to die alone.”

Lydia pats his shoulder comfortingly. “No, no. You just need to be less picky.” Less picky. Stiles isn’t picky at all. “Or you gotta look somewhere you never thought you’d find someone.”

Squinting, Stiles lifts his head again and studies her expression. She looks so perfectly innocent behind her Martini glass, Stiles knows for a fact that there’s evil brewing behind that pretty face of hers. “What?”

“Nothing.” Lydia raises her free hand defensively. “I’m just saying that maybe dating apps aren’t your thing. Maybe you should look at those around you.” She raises one of her perfectly plucked brows. It doesn’t matter how innocent she pretends to be, she’s planning some shit. If she’s in a mood like that, Lydia cannot be trusted.

Stiles straightens again, thanking the barkeeper for his drink. Befriending Ryan was one of the best choices they could’ve made because the guy makes the best cocktails, and for some reason, he always seems to know exactly how strong his drink needs to be. Today’s cocktail concoction has enough vodka to make his Polish genes more than a little happy. He sighs and turns to Lydia. “I’m not dating anybody from my team.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about your team. There are more people in your life than your team.”

“Well…” Stiles drums his fingers onto the bar, tipping his glass this way and that, “sure, there are a lot of people working at HQ.” But from another team. It’s hard enough that Stiles is working all over the country more often than not. If his partner were to work at the FBI as well, their relationship would be a tragedy before it even begins. “And there are the various people making sure I don’t starve to death or am under-caffeinated.” None of them really sticks out if he’s perfectly honest. “And then there’s you and Ryan, which…” he trails off, waving his hand around a little. Lydia and he dated for a month until admitting to each other that it feels like dating their sibling.

Lydia studies him over the edge of her glass. “Nobody else? What about deputies? Or lawyers?”

“Not since Jackson specialized in supernatural cases.”

“Jackson?” Lydia almost sounds as if that’s some kind of surprise to her… which it is not. She’s friends with Jackson and Danny. Stiles knows for a fact that they’re seeing each other on a regular basis. For her to act surprised makes zero sense.

“Speaking of Jackson,” Stiles says, running his fingers along his glass, “I have the questionable honor to spend tomorrow evening with him. Any tips?”

Lydia’s eyes widen. So does her smile. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing spectacular, it’s just a work date. We gotta go over some files.”

“What top do you want then?”

Stiles shrugs. “On how to keep him tolerable for a few hours.”

Lydia chuckles. “He’s not that bad, you know?”

Oh, Stiles knows. Jackson is not like he used to be; well, mostly. He’s still a spoiled piece of shit, but he’s not acting like a dick every second of every day. Stiles does not want to smack him either. However, it’s the first time he’s completely alone with Jackson. Stiles suggested his office, but Jackson insisted they meet at his penthouse. As if Stiles needs a reminder that Jackson is getting richer every single day. Stiles is still living in the same flat he’s lived in during his studies. It’s not that he couldn’t afford something better, but he’s almost never home anyway.

“I don’t wanna talk about work any longer.”

“Jackson does not have to be ‘just work’,” Lydia says, quirking a brow. “He can be fun too.”

Stiles furrows his brow. “You mean a friend.” He’s just making sure because her definition of fun usually involves no clothes and lots of moaning. So, Stiles isn’t entirely sure what Lydia is insinuating. “Right?”

“Yes.” Lydia looks at him, smiling a little too innocently. “What did I say?”

“How many Martinis did you have?”

She grins and sips on her drink. Oh, this is going to be a long night.

—————

"That's not enough proof."

"How is this not enough proof?" Stiles slams his right hand on the file, narrowing his eyes. "Dude had fourteen bodies in his basement's built-in freezer." He taps on the papers aggressively, as if that's going to change anything. "Fourteen, Jackson. Two of those bodies are those of missing girls." What more do they need to get this wendigo behind bars? No judge or jury would consider this guy innocent… unless his defense attorney is better than Jackson and the evidence they do have. That shouldn’t be possible. He was a fantastic defense attorney and a fucking pain in Stiles’ ass on more than one occasion.

Jackson crosses his arms, sinking deeper in his designer armchair. "And five of those bodies come from the morgue. Including papers."

"That's five against nine unaccounted bodies." Stiles crosses his arms over his thighs.

"I know that," Jackson says, now leaning forward to do the same. "But the defense is going to argue that everything he did was legal." He quirks a brow and reaches for his bottle of beer.

Stiles has the urge to bang his head against the wall. Instead, he props his chin on his hand and studies Jackson. To be perfectly honest, Stiles is glad that Jackson is finally on his team. Hopefully, he’s going to do an even better job now that he’s a state attorney. After all, they’re sitting on a powder keg. It’s only going to be a matter of time until the supernatural will be known everywhere, and when that happens, they need to prove to the humans that they don’t have to be afraid, that everything is under control and the supernaturals are treated just as strictly as any human would. Jackson as an attorney can make this happen even if working with him is going to drive Stiles up the wall.

“We haven’t found anything for the other bodies.”

“That doesn’t mean the evidence doesn’t exist.”

Stiles licks his lips. “You think he met the girls online.” It’s not impossible. Stiles knows about message boards from cannibals for cannibals. If someone offers themselves up to be eaten, Stiles doubts they’ll be bothered if it’s a wendigo instead of a human. “If that’s the case—”

“You think he’s guilty?” Jackson sets the bottle down and leans closer.

“What does that matter?”

“Do you think he’s guilty?”

“Yes.” Stiles pushes the files away from him and slumps back on the couch. “Yes, he’s fucking guilty, okay? But that doesn’t make evidence magically appear.”

Jackson chuckles even though there’s absolutely nothing funny happening right now. “Good.”

“Good?” Scoffing, Stiles reaches for his own beer and takes a swig. He’d rather drink his beer before he says something stupid. The last fucking thing he needs is getting into an argument with Jackson. After all, they’re on the same team now. They need to get along. Arguing is only going to make things so much more complicated.

“Yes, good.” Jackson taps a finger against the bottle in his hand. “Because that means the guy is guilty.”

Stiles snaps his gaze back to Jackson. “What?” What? Did he hear that right? Sure, they’ve been getting along better than they did in high school — even though they haven’t really been enemies back then either — but this kind of niceness, this trust is new. Jackson doesn’t hand it out, and he especially doesn’t hand it to him. It’s a big jump from being something like colleagues to basically saying ‘I trust that your instinct is right even though we don’t have any evidence’.

“If you think this guy belongs behind bars, that’s where he’ll end up.” Jackson shrugs and leans back again.

If Stiles hadn’t known him before, judging by the way he sits in his expensive leather armchair, he would’ve pegged him as a supervillain straight out of a James Bond movie. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair then drinks the rest of his beer in one go. “But what if we don’t find anything?”

“Then that’s the evidence we need.” Jackson crosses his legs. “If we can prove he did not exchange any previous messages with the victims or received any other form of written consent, he broke the law. Simple as that.” Simple as that coming from the guy who’s only having to ask questions and present the evidence, Stiles and his team have to gather within twenty-four hours unless Jackson manages to convince the judge to decide that there is probable cause for the charge. But that should be the least of their problems. Locking him up for the rest of his pathetic life, that’s the problem.

Sighing, Stiles puts the empty bottle back on the table and hides his face in his hands. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day. He’s so glad Stiles managed to convince his boss and Danny to join his team. There is nobody else who could get through a workload like that as effectively as Danny Mahealani. Stiles would throw himself out of the window of Jackson’s penthouse. He still might, especially if this job is not going the way he wants it to.

This is more than a little tiring. Catching the guy has already been an exhausting mess, but making sure he stays locked up? That’s a whole other story.

“Come on, Stilinski.” God, Jackson hasn’t called him that since their early High School years. Is that how much time has passed? They’re adults. They’re fucking adults, and they’re both in charge of the safety of humanity by making sure the nutjobs in the supernatural world will be trialed and locked up. “You caught the guy. If you cannot lock him up, nobody else can.”

Stiles rubs his cheeks then lowers his hands and squints at Jackson. “How come you’ve been so abnormally nice to me all of the sudden?”

Jackson quirks a brow, studying him over the rim of the bottle of beer. “What do you mean?”

Did the guy not hear himself talk? All these little compliments, his reassuring Stiles. That’s not Jackson. “You just seem nicer than usual is all.”

With a chuckle, Jackson empties his beer. “I can come up with a couple of insults really quick.” He puts the bottle on the table and folds his arms over his thighs. The shirt tightens around his shoulders and upper arms. He works out. Those biceps are definitely new. Stiles would’ve noticed them before. Right? Right. “Or punch you in the face if you want.”

“Okay, that’s a little excessive, don’t you think?” Stiles presses his lips together, trying his best not to smile. “You never punched me.”

“No,” Jackson agrees, nodding slowly, “but you punched me. Hard.”

“To be fair, you called my dad useless, and Scott expected me to throw my dad to the wolves. Literally.” Stiles bounces his left leg and sighs, running a hand over the nape of his neck. “Still, sorry about that. I should’ve handled that better.” He really should’ve. His anger issues have followed him around for a lot longer than he’d like to admit, but his teenage years really were the worst. “And if it makes you feel better, you’re not the only supernatural creature I’ve punched in the face.” He wriggles his fingers then lowers his hands.

Jackson shrugs. “I did deserve it.”

“Not really.” Shaking his head, Stiles gets to his feet. Nobody deserves to be punched that night. They were all stressed to the max, being hunted by Peter. “Anyway, I should get going.” Jackson being nice and talking about the past makes him feel nostalgic, and he really doesn’t need that right now. He needs a clear head.

“You don’t have to go.”

Stiles hugs the file to his chest, feeling strangely lost as he looks down at Jackson. Part of him doesn’t want to leave. At all. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.” He brushes his finger along the side of the file, swallowing heavily. “I’ll call you the second we’ll find something.”

Jackson nods slowly, following him to the elevator. “I’ll keep you updated on the judge.”

“Great.”

“Good.”

They stand there for a moment, and Stiles feels even more lost now. So much more than only a second ago. Maybe he should stay? Just for an hour. Not too long. It’s still early after all. No. No. Stiles hits the button for the elevator. “See you soon.” Why did that come out like a question? “Oh, and thanks for the beer.” The elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding.

“Hey,” Jackson says when the elevator doors slide open, “I can swing by the office… tomorrow? Judge McLoughlin should make his decision before lunch.”

Stiles nods, feeling strangely — what? — hopeful? “That sounds nice.“ He presses the button for the ground floor, suddenly wanting tomorrow to come sooner.

“Great. I should be there around twelve.” Jackson smiles.

Fuck, Stiles really forgot how handsome he is. “It’s a date.” The elevator doors slide shut. It’s a date. Groaning, Stiles smacks the folder against his forehead. What the hell?

———

"Someone didn’t get laid last night, huh?" Brett crosses his ankles on Isaac's empty chair. "I tol—"

"You are about one stupid comment away from ending up in the obituaries, so proceed with caution." Stiles quirks a brow. “Now, get your shoes off that chair and make yourself useful.” Being in a leading position is nothing Stiles enjoys a lot. It’s especially weird to be the leader of a team that consists of his high school buddies — and then there’s Brett. Usually, working with the guy is easy, but Stiles really isn’t up for his humor today.

Brett huffs out a breath. “I’m better in the field.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then why didn’t you send me with Isaac?”

“Because we need to gain the girls’ trust, not their phone numbers.” As amazing as Brett has been at his jobs for the last three years, Stiles is not about to send him to a few cute college girls in order to get information. He may be a fool, but he’s certainly not a fucking idiot. Besides, they both know that Kira and Isaac are the best people to convince others that they can be trusted.

Danny isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. They’re all getting along wonderfully, but schadenfreude is still written in capital letters here. Mostly because they’re all assholes. Well, everyone aside from Kira. Stiles has no clue how she’s handling all of them, day in and day out. The poor girl really doesn’t have it easy.

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “Any news, Danny?”

“Not since the last time you asked me—” Danny leans back to check the clock on the wall “— seven minutes ago.”

Stiles huffs out a breath and folds his arms over his chest. They’ve been at it for two hours, and so far they haven’t found anything. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But having something in his hand is better than trying to prove nothing is exactly the evidence they need. There’s gotta be something. A picture. A text message. Stiles would sell his soul for something to prove that this fucker belongs behind bars. Maybe he’s missed something in the files. Maybe the evidence has been sitting right in front of them all along.

Biting his bottom lip, Stiles glances back at the clock. Jackson should be here any second. Hopefully, he’s coming with good news. At this point, Stiles cannot handle any more negative news, or he is going to lose his fucking shit. "Yo, Stiles?"

Stiles looks up from the file, massaging his temples. "Yeah?"

"What car's our guy driving?" Brett leans back in his chair, looking at Stiles with raised brows.

That's a good question. Drawing his eyebrows together, he flicks through the file and scans the personal information. "A light-blue 2012 Honda Accord." He gets to his feet, anticipation making it impossible to sit down. "Please, please, tell me you got something."

“Oh, Babe, you're gonna love this,” Brett smirks way too confidently.

Stiles flicks the side of his head. They talked about his lack of professionalism multiple times in the very beginning, but nobody else seems really bothered by Brett’s love for pet names, and as long as he only does it while they’re alone, it’s hard to argue against. Still, Stiles wouldn’t mind a better pet name than ‘Baby’. It doesn’t exactly show a lot of creativity. Well, it’s still better than Sugarplum. Poor Isaac.

“So,” Stiles says, propping his hands on the edge of Brett’s desk, “what do you got for me?”

“I noticed it in the last story before she disappeared.” Brett pulls up a short little video and points at the right corner of the screen. “Look here.” He hits play, finger still pressed against the corner of the screen.

And Stiles saw it. Just for a second. A light blue 2012 Honda Accord. The license plate is impossible to decipher like this, and there is no way to see who is sitting in the car. Still, it is the car they are looking for, and it happened only a day before she disappeared. Also, Brett probably would not have called him over if this was the only instance of spotting this car. In fact, Brett showed him two more stories and three pictures spread out over the last three weeks. Chances are that’s the same car with the same fucking driver. Chances are this is their guy.

Grinning, Stiles ruffles Brett’s hair. “I could kiss you right now.”

“Not at the office.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Send them to Danny.” He pushes away from the desk. “Danny, I need you on this ASAP. Try to get a clear image of the car. We need to know if that’s him.” Because if that is him, they got him. There’s no way out of this one. “Brett, text Isaac. Maybe her friends noticed something about the car. I’ll try to get a hang of Jackson, maybe—”

“Jackson just texted me.” Danny leans back in his chair, frowning at his phone. “Something came up… and he wants me to tell you that the judge is on our side. Dude’s gonna stay locked up for the time being.”

Stiles should be thrilled about the news. That’s what he wanted, isn’t it? He wanted the wendigo to stay behind bars until they found proof. Now, they found proof, and he will not be released. Ever. Period. But… but. He’s not as excited as he thought he’d be. Stiles would’ve preferred if Jackson told him directly. They were supposed to go to lunch too. “That’s great news.”

Brett snorts. “You couldn’t have said that with a bit more enthusiasm?”

For the peace of his own mind, Stiles decides to ignore him. However, looking at Danny doesn’t make this thing any easier because the look Danny is giving him is making his skin crawl. It’s not fun. “I’m starving,” he says, turning away from Danny and his searching look, and grabs his jacket. “I’ll be back in ten.” Without waiting for an answer, Stiles rushes out of the room.

—————

“You look like you’re ready to consider if the hangover is worth it.”

Stiles draws his eyebrows together and looks up at the man sitting down next to him. Oh no, he’s really not up for small talk right now. He still tries to be polite, knowing all too well how easily pissed-off intoxicated people can be. “You know how it is.” He certainly does not, but Stiles isn’t about to elaborate. Sighing, he checks his phone again.

Isaac and Brett insisted they needed to celebrate their success. Which, okay, it’s something they’re always doing, but today is one of the days he’s rather have stayed home and watched a stupid Netflix show to drown out whatever the fuck is going on with him. He wishes he could say that it has absolutely nothing to do with Jackson basically ghosting him. The guy has really left him on read for two days now. Stiles even invited him for tonight, remembering Lydia’s words, but nothing. No text, no call. Zero. Zilch. Stiles is almost a hundred percent sure he did something to piss Jackson off. Not just because he’s completely ignoring him. Danny has been giving him weird looks as well ever since Jackson didn’t show up for lunch.

Oh god.

Is it because of the date comment? It can’t be because of the date comment. Please, let it not be because of that stupid fucking date comment. Jackson should know by now that his mouth doesn't always work properly. He didn’t mean date date. Did Jackson really think it’s a date, and that’s why he didn’t come?

Stiles swallows and drops his phone. Fuck. It’s not like they were flirting or anything. Sure, their meetings became progressively easier, but they were never too friendly, right? Right? Scrunching up his face, Stiles downs the contents of his whiskey.

The guy next to him chuckles. “I don’t think I know how that feels.”

“I really don’t need a running commentary on my life, Buddy.”

“I wasn’t trying to intrude.”

Stiles raises a brow and finally turns to look at the guy next to him. He’s quite handsome, probably in his mid-to-late-thirties. His suit costs undoubtedly more than Stiles makes in six months. It’s also not his unless he’s got a terrible tailor. The shoulders are just a little too loose. The suit jacket doesn’t fit properly around his waist either. The perfectly trimmed three o’clock shadow doesn’t help his case. Neither does wearing a suit like that in a bar that’s filled with people in comfortable clothes. The dude either used to be rich, or he’s got some serious self-esteem issues he thinks he can cover up with his best friend’s suit.

“Okay.” The guy grabs Stiles’ glass and shakes it at the barkeeper. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I really don’t—”

“I insist. As an apology.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Listen, I’m waiting for someone.” Actually, he’s waiting for four someones, but clearly, his team isn’t in the mood for being on time today. Then again, Stiles arrived very early as well. Because he was sitting in his flat, staring at his phone and the last message that went unanswered.

“They’re not here yet, aren’t they?”

Ryan places a drink on him, and, judging by the look on his face, it’s none alcoholic. “You good, Mate?”

Even though Ryan is staring at the guy, Stiles is highly aware that he’s talking to him. “I’m good, thanks.” It’s not the first douche he’s had to deal with, and it probably won’t be the last; especially in his line of work. “Thanks though.” Smiling, Stiles grabs the drink and gets to his feet. His team should arrive shortly, hopefully, and he’d prefer to have already saved them a booth by then. He turns around, not paying the guy any more attention.

Who clearly is not done with him. “Hey,” he says, loud enough that the people closest to them turn around. “I got you that drink.”

Ryan chuckles and props himself onto his elbows. “It’s on the house.”

The guy shoots him a glare then turns back to Stiles. His neck flushes. Oh, someone’s not handling being turned down very well. And mocked. And stared at. This has to be his worst nightmare.

Stiles loves it. He probably shouldn’t, but he does. So much. Trying his best to keep his expression under control, Stiles turns and faces him again. “You wanna say something to me?” He quirks a brow then leans a little closer, lowering his voice. “Like, I don’t know, that I owe you because you took time out of your evening to talk to me? Or because you tried to buy me a drink I didn’t want?”

He’s gnashing his teeth now, shoulders going rigid.

“Come on,” Stiles urges, fingers itching for a fight for the first in a very long time, “be that guy. You know you want to.”

“Or just move along.”

Stiles steps aside, whipping his head around. Jackson is standing next to him, arms folded tightly over his chest. His white button-down and black jeans make him look extra attractive, and Stiles cannot believe that thought just crossed his mind. He’s been thinking a lot about Jackson… which isn’t much better now that he thinks about that.

The guy narrows his eyes. “And why would I?”

“Because I just asked you politely, and I only do that once.” Jackson’s expression remains firmly neutral, probably because he’s more than used to people doing whatever he wants.

Much to Stiles’ relief and dismay, the dickhead actually does move away. It’s good. It really is because Stiles probably would’ve provoked him until he stepped out of line. Still. “You know, I could’ve handled that myself.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you did a stellar job.”

Like he needs anyone to judge his methods. Stiles huffs out a breath and walks over to one of the empty tables in the corner. “What are you even doing here?”

“You invited me, remember?” Jackson slips into the booth, motioning Stiles to sit down next to him. Which, seriously? First, the guy ghosts him and now he’s expecting Stiles to pretend like nothing happened and sit down next to him?

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles collapses onto the bench, bumping his leg against Jackson. He crosses his arms. Fine, maybe he sits down next to him, but he’s not gonna be happy about it. “I didn’t expect you’d show up after not replying to any of the texts I’ve sent you in the past 48 hours.”

Jackson nudges a napkin with his index finger. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Stiles stares at him. “We didn’t talk?!”

Jackson shoots him a look then returns his attention to poking the napkin. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh no. No way, Sir.” Stiles is so not going to let him get away with this. Seriously. “First, we agreed on meeting during lunch, then you tell Danny that you’re not coming, who then proceeded to look at me as if I insulted his grandmother, and you fucking leave me on read for two fucking days.” He turns around, swatting Jackson’s upper arm. “I think you owe me a fucking explanation.”

“I think you can chill with the expletives.”

“I don’t think I fucking will.” Stiles narrows his eyes. “It’s not fucking fun to have Danny glare at you from across the room every two seconds.”

Jackson lets out a breath and finally looks at him. “You really don’t know.” It’s not a question, and for some reason, Jackson seems to be amused about his own realization. “Can’t believe Lydia’s right.”

“Right about what?” What the hell is he talking about now? Is he trying to confuse him on purpose?

With yet another sigh, Jackson leans back, studying Stiles’ face for a few seconds. He’s still smiling a little. “That you wouldn’t notice that I like you until I spell it out for you.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you alone if I thought you’d hate me.”

“No, Stiles…” Jackson trails off. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. “I’m talking about the ‘I booked a table at your favorite restaurant and ordered a bouquet of flowers for our lunch date’ kind of like.”

Stiles opens his mouth then closes it again, squinting a little. “Wha— oh.” Oh god. Jackson thought it was a date date. He wanted it to be an actual date? Jackson Whittemore… the Jackson Whittemore booked a table and bought him a bouquet of flowers because he thought Stiles meant a date date. He can’t believe it. That’s gotta be a joke. “Wait… you like me?”

Jackson nods very slowly.

“For my personality?”

“Nobody was as surprised as me.”

“Rude.” Stiles boxes Jackson’s upper arm very lightly, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Wait… then why did you cancel everything?” That doesn’t make any sense. If Jackson thought Stiles was talking about a date date, and he wanted it to be a date date… then why drop everything and run? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Jackson shifts on the bench, left leg now pressing against Stiles’. “I heard Talbot call you babe.”

“He has pet names for all of us.”

“Danny told me as much.” Jackson nods and runs a hand over the nape of his neck. “Then Lydia reminded me that you’re stupid and that I need to get my head out of my ass if I wanted to go on a date with you, so… here I am.”

Stiles bounces his leg, feeling stupidly giddy all of the sudden — giddy enough that he decides to ignore Lydia’s comment. “You… still wanna go on a date with me?”

“I would like that, yeah.”

His heart did not just flutter. Nope. Never. Stiles clears his throat and grins. Oh god, this… he didn’t expect this at all. “I don’t have an expensive suit, so…”

Jackson puts a hand on his thigh, and Stiles’ pulse goes sky-high within the flicker of a second. “We could rent a movie. Order in.”

Stiles likes that idea so much more than going out. He places his hand on Jackson’s, running his thumb over the side of his index finger. “And no flowers, I can’t even keep a cactus alive.”

Unexpectedly, Jackson lifts their hands and kisses the back of Stiles’, just above his wrist. Fuck. He’s never going to admit what this small little gesture is doing to him. “That works for me.”

He’s going on a date with Jackson.

Stiles beams. “Wonderful.”

#stilesrarepair2021 #stilesrarepairweek2021 #stiles stilinski #jackson whitemore #stackson #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:stackson

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clotpolesonly · 3 years

Photo

#stilesrarepairweek2021 #twedit #teenwolflegacy #fyteenwolf #fytwolf #stericaedit #stilesedit #ericaedit #Sterica #Stiles Stilinski #Erica Reyes #Teen Wolf #edits by me

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domesticated-feral · 3 years

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Stisaac - Actors AU

On the spotlight, Stiles and Isaac may seem best friends at most, but behind the curtain, they are madly in love with each other.

For day seven of @stilesrarepair week 2021 - prompt: dealer's choice

#stilesrarepair2021 #stilesrarepairweek2021 #Stisaac #Stiles Stilinski #Isaac Lahey #Teen Wolf #my edit

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just-another-busy-fangirl-writes · 3 years

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Sex Me Right Now

Summary: The missing scene we all wanted from 3x04. This is what happens when Stiles goes over to Danny's house.

Tags/Warnings: First Time, Frottage, Implied Future Sex, Danny takes care of Stiles

Pairing: Stanny

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3022

For the 2021 Stiles Rare Pair Week Day 6: pre-graduation exploration (in-canon missing scenes). @stilesrarepair

This is also a Kinktober fill for Frottage.

Read on AO3

Want to be on my Teen Wolf taglist? Let me know.

#stilesrarepairweek2021 #stanny #stanny smut #stiles x danny #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf smut #kinktober 2021

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halebaccari · 3 years

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stiles rarepair week (late) day two -> Stoyd

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." He knows Erica's being a little shit on purpose because she picked up on the first ring. "I know there's no way this was his idea. He won't even let you show his face."

"Insta wasn't his idea. But I thought I could enjoy all of the sweet, sweet clicks while I help him get someone in particular's attention, like he asked."

#stilesrarepairweek2021 #boyd x stiles #stoyd #twpicspam #twrarepair #ship: all i know is i cannot pretend #picspam #slash #my day two catch-up is here :D #erica as 'satan' was so delightful an idea

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raksh-writes · 3 years

Photo

You’ve got me in a heady drop (got me in your open hand)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski

Words: ~1k

For Day 5 of Stiles Rarepair week 2021! Prompt was Future fic and for those of you that read/are reading Look into the Abyss, y’all can consider this post-LitA ^^ Definitely a part of one of the ideas I’m considering for the maybe-sequel, so I decided to do a lil’ snippet and the event felt perfect for it. Also, this prob wouldn’t have happened if not for the darling @plushrumpasaurus that enocuraged me to take this direction - this snippet is for you, hun, for whenever you have the time and spoons - I’ll hope this will proivde at least some nice distraction 💗

For more about the event itself and other submissions, check out @stilesrarepair ! And all the love 💗

Warnings/Tags: Dom/sub themes, Collars, Established Relationship

“Is that something you would want?” Void asked, tracing a line of kisses up Stiles’ throat, nuzzled his nose right under Stiles’ ear. “To wear my collar on your pretty neck?”

It’s not that Stiles hasn’t thought about it — since the question fell between them in a tease, just weeks before Void left his mating bite in Stiles’ neck — but that he hadn't paid it much mind back then. And with all the bruises Void loved leaving on him on a daily basis, with the fresh bite-mark stark against his pale skin, it just didn’t occur to Stiles to want anything more — at least not until they found themselves in a completely new city, among complete strangers, and with people actually trying to hit on them.

As flattering as it was, Stiles didn’t feel completely comfortable with the attention — and with Void away from him for most of the day for the first time in months, the sudden emptiness it brought on quickly became almost too much. Their connection always provided comfort, but Stiles couldn't help but crave… something more substantial, something different he could hold onto; hold up as the mark that ordinary people could see. And then Stiles noticed the necklace snug around one of his friend’s neck — simple and unassuming, with a single “O” ring in the middle — and the idea had slammed itself back into his brain.

The territory in itself wasn’t completely new to him — Stiles is, after all, curious by nature and was aware that their… dynamic fit the criteria more than it didn’t. Not always and not in the typical way, but Stiles couldn’t deny that submitting to Void’s easy command felt as instinctive as breathing, sometimes even more so. They didn’t really live the lifestyle, though — too naturally chaotic for it, too intense and too eager to go off the rails; nothing controlled about it besides how Void would twist Stiles any and each way he pleased; Void was always, always hungry — and Stiles relished in the fact that, these days, it was more for him than anything else. And, aside from the few times a specific mood has struck, they didn’t really do scenes either, so he hadn’t looked too much into the whole thing.

Still. It has occurred to Stiles. It has — really — occurred to both of them. And when the idea wormed itself back into Stiles’ brain, he just couldn’t push it away — tried to keep it a secret, at first, but when it started to crawl all over his mind, it finally slipped through enough for Void to stop ignoring it. With their connection turned mating-bond there really wasn’t much to do in terms of keeping secrets.

“Something there you want to tell me, little fox?” Void asked, finally, one evening as they laid together on the couch. Stiles curled up with his back against Void and the demon’s thumb brushing up and down his throat, something or the other playing idly on the tv.

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted, after a long moment of indecision. If he truly wanted it — and for the last couple of days he really couldn’t deny it anymore — Stiles had to say it. He had to tell his mate. “Yeah, there is.”

Void just nuzzled into his hair, thumb still stroking soothingly at Stiles’ throat. “I’m all ears, kitten. Tell me.”

And Stiles did.

For the first time, they’ve chosen a couple of simple ones, “Only to see if you even like them, little fox.” One for the day, and one for the… well, play. Soft, buttery leather with just a “D” ring in the middle.

Stiles wanted to try it on almost immediately, so Void put the leather around his neck in the evening of the same day they came in, a smirk on his lips as he pulled it snug against Stiles’ throat. And it felt… weird. Good. Changed almost nothing aside from sending a new, electric thrill through his muscles and restricting the small patch of skin from Void’s biting kisses; the first Stiles enjoyed, the other — not so much. But when Void took it off afterward, curled around Stiles and lips soft against the freshly uncovered skin, Stiles couldn’t help but melt; he might’ve enjoyed it far more than having the collar on by itself. They didn’t use it that much, but it was fun to have, to explore the many possibilities.

The day collar, on the other hand, became a whole other matter.

It sat in Stiles’ bedside table for days before he finally decided to try it on — to wear it for the day. At university and then in the shop. It consisted only of a thick chain of rings and a small, simple paddock connecting the two ends in the hollow of his throat — along with the thin, silver chain he got from Lydia and the crystal on a leather cord, it wouldn’t stand out too much. Still, it felt like a statement, even if just a few would know what it really meant — the bite was only for his and Void’s (and very few chosen) eyes only, but the collar… the collar would be for everyone to see. Which, not accidentally, was the whole point.

“You know you don’t have to, don’t you,” Void said, that morning, the chain and paddock in his hands — small little key already in the lock, attached to an equally simple silver necklace — dark eyes sharp and heavy on Stiles.

“No, I know.” He shook his head, spine strengthening on a heavy breath. “I want it.”

Void’s gaze stayed on him for one more drawn-out moment before he nodded, stepping in just that little bit closer so the heat of his body seeped right underneath Stiles’ skin.

The chain was cool as it slipped around his neck and the click of it sliding shut soft — the key closed in Void’s fingers. Then Void slipped a hand around the paddock and tugged Stiles into a kiss.

Any and all tension still left in Stiles’ muscles dissipated right there and then — and when Void turned him around to face the mirror, Stiles couldn’t help but think it looked right when he feared it wouldn’t. That the chain resting on his collarbones, crossing through the bite in the curve of his neck and shoulder, would look as if it’s breaking the mark into two. But it didn’t — instead, it just looked like another one of Void’s marks on him — this one for everyone to see. And when their eyes met in the mirror, Void leaned down to leave a kiss on them — his bite and the collar both.

“Good boy,” he purred, just a second later, lips pressed against Stiles’ ear and body flush against his back — and Stiles lets himself go pliant and languid in Void’s embrace, the softest of moans slipping past his mouth.

They would get personalized collars for him in the future, Stiles is sure of that, but for now — for now, he’s going to wear the ones he has with pride.

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amatchinwater · 3 years

Text

Gotta be You

Pairing: Briles

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, A/B/O AU,

Words: 6719

@stilesrarepair Day 7: Dealer's Choice

Ao3 link

@msmischief101 this wouldn't have been done on time without you cheering me on! I hope you like it, lovely ❤ thank you for dragging me into the depths of this ship!

Stiles smells the blood before he sees it. Rushing to Liam’s side, Scott throws his arms around the Beta whose nails are digging into his palms. God, the rush of anger coming off the wolf is nauseating. The Omega inserts himself between the two very angry wolves. Between the contact from his Alpha and his friend blocking his field of vision, it calms Liam just enough.

Brett- Liam told Stiles and Scott all about his former captain and logic would assume this is him- is still borderline snarling at the Beta. If just once, they could have a normal day without someone trying to kill Liam, that’d be great.

“Hey there!” Stiles cuts in with his hand out, “welcome to our little public school. I’m Stiles, you must be Brett.” The Alpha’s green eyes have been trained on him since the fox got in his space. They flash ruby and the fox’s respond with their blue. He actually shakes the Omega’s hand and Stiles can’t help but shudder at the sparks in his fingertips from the unmated Alpha. “What’s say we give the kid a break, yeah?” He’s trying to get better.”

“Is that so?” Brett chuckles with a grin, not even bothering to glance at Liam being carted away by Scott. “What do you call that?”

Stiles turns to see Mason join the pair rushing away from the scene, “progress. He actually went with Scott this time.” The Omega sighs, “look, can we just have a normal game with little to no blood shed? Please?”

The wolf smiles and lifts a hand to Stiles’ chin. The Omega blushes wildly because this is a fucking hot, unmated Alpha just touching him in public like this. What the fuck? Does Brett not care that he’s practically scenting him in front of everyone? Does Stiles? Good thing Liam isn’t here anymore or he’d have a field day with this information.

“I guess I can do that for an Omega as beautiful as you. See you on the field, Stiles.”

One would think that with the supernatural being out in the open that someone wouldn’t open up a fucking deadpool to kill them. But of course, this is Beacon Hills and people do dumb questionable shit all the time. Stiles included. Because the second he smells blood, he’s running off the field and into the locker room. Some weird instinct inside him screaming that the blood he’s smelling is Brett’s.

By the time the Omega makes it into the room, Olivia is knocked out on the floor, Scott has a scorch mark on his neck, and Brett is shaking with a thick coat of sweat. He looks awful; sick. The fox inside him is losing its entire mind right now. Clawing at his chest like this is the worst thing imaginable. Which, yes, it’s awful that this happened to the wolf, but Stiles just met him all of two hours ago.

Stiles watches dumbly as Scott helps the other wolf off of his feet, “I have to go get Liam, Garrett is still out there.” Of course it’s fucking Garrett, the asshole. “Can you get him to Deaton on your own?” The Alpha doesn’t really wait for a response as he’s already walking out of the locker room and towards the school’s exit. Once outside, Scott shifts the other Alpha’s weight onto the fox. “Good?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” he responds and Scott nods before sprinting off to find his Beta. Completely weirded out by the fact that there’s tingles working up his arm and side where he and Brett are touching, the Omega continues to his jeep. There’s some feeling pooling in his gut for the Alpha that Stiles can’t quite place. “Don’t you fucking die on me, Brett,” he rushes out, worried. As if his words decided to make it worse, the wolf spews yellow foam all over the pavement. “Shit!” The fox yanks open the passenger door and very unceremoniously throws the Alpha inside.

“Help him!” Stiles yells at Deaton as he bursts through the door to the clinic. Derek is there too and the fox doesn’t really care enough to ask why. Too focused on the Alpha in his arms wheezing and growling. His heart is aching for reasons he can’t explain. “Please,” the Omega says as the other Alpha helps take some of Brett’s weight off of him right as he throws up again.

“Quickly,” Deaton tells them, watching the two barely manage to get the thrashing wolf that’s gnashing his teeth up on the table.

Stiles starts to get panicky when Brett writhes harder in their grip and begins to gurgle on more foam that won’t make it past his lips. The Omega is fucking terrified of losing the wolf and his worry gets the best of him. The Alpha jerks harder than Stiles could prevent and Brett falls off the table and onto the floor. Derek and Stiles instantly collapse beside him, pinning the wolf in place while his eyes glow and fangs snap.

“Hold him still or this could kill him rather than save him,” the man kneels on the ground with a scalpel in hand. The fox’s eyes widen and the thought of having to cut into the Alpha. Having to hurt him further. Brett tries to yank free with a snarl.

“Give him your wrist,” Derek says.

“So he can bite me? No, thanks!”

The Alpha rolls his eyes at him, “one you’d heal.” No shit, Sherlock, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt! “Two, you’re an Omega near a very distressed Alpha. Your scent should calm enough to let Deaton work.”

“He’s right.”

He doesn’t have time to worry about himself right now. Tentatively, Stiles reaches a hand towards Brett’s face, cupping his cheek so his wrist is right over the wolf’s nose. Through his pain, panic, and incoherence, the wolf’s nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. The Alpha calms enough as the poison coursing through his veins will allow. He’s still twitching, but it’s mild enough that the druid can make an incision along his sternum.

A puff of yellow smoke spills from Brett’s chest and he gasps harshly before settling on the ground. Jaggedly breathing with his eyes closed. Thinking that he’s served his purpose, Stiles tries to pull his hand away. That only makes Brett growl- Derek instantly backs off- and his eyes flash, one hand coming up to hold the fox in place. Seeing his job is far from over, Stiles maneuvers himself better, getting comfortable beside the wolf. The Alpha’s breath is shaky, but he calms once assured the Omega isn’t moving away.

“Can I get something to clean him off?” Stiles asks, no one should have to sleep with blood on their chest and puke on their chin. Alan runs a cloth under the sink and hands it to the fox. “Thanks,” the Omega gently rubs the warm fabric along the wolf’s face and chest. “How long until we can move him? The floor can’t be very comfortable.”

The wolf rumbles in his chest on every exhale, turning his head to Stiles’ leg. Somehow he’s coherent enough to run his thumb along the fox’s wrist. The scenting soothes the anxiety the Omega was stewing in. His fox more than a little pleased with the fact the Alpha is turning to him in his time of need. Stiles can’t help but watch the movement of Brett’s lids as he sleeps, finding the wolf more and more beautiful.

“I don’t think he cares much,” Derek says in a tone that the fox doesn’t enjoy. It sounds almost teasing. Like when your older brother knows you have a crush on someone and doesn’t care for the word subtlety. But when Stiles looks up to growl at the wolf, Hale is smiling fondly at the pair on the floor.

A phone chimes before the Omega can ask what gives. Deaton digs in his pocket, “it’s Scott. Liam is fine. He says that Brett’s sister, Lori is on her way to get him. She should be here any minute.”

The bell for the door rings not much later. But long enough that Brett has interlocked their fingers in his sleep. Stiles enjoys it too much to try and pull away. That is until a girl with short blonde hair walks into the back room. Probably smelling the familiarity of his sister, the Alpha doesn’t growl when the fox lets go of his hand.

“Thank you so much,” Lori rushes to Stiles, pulling him into a hug. She’s an Omega too and that makes his fox purr into the embrace. The fox looks at Deaton over her shoulder, he’s the one who did all the work. Shouldn’t he be getting thanked? But the druid only smiles and averts his gaze.

“Anytime,” Stiles responds with a hint of confusion. Not understanding literally any person in the room right now.

A week later, Stiles is leaving practice with Liam in tow to take the Beta home. Confused doesn’t cover it seeing Brett leaning against his jeep. But it’s a sight that the fox really enjoys and would like to see it as much as possible. Liam growls when he follows the Omega’s sight and the fox swats at him. “Chill out, dude. He almost died, cut him some slack.”

Brett’s smirk widens to a smile when they’re a foot away from the jeep. “Hey, Stiles,” the wolf purrs. “Liam,” he says out of courtesy rather than actual acknowledgement. “Could I get a minute alone with you?”

“Not a fucking chance,” the Beta seethes and that just makes the other wolf laugh.

“Oh my god,” Stiles shoves the younger wolf into the vehicle and slams the door shut on golden eyes. “That’s about as alone as you’re gonna get.”

“I’ll take it,” Brett pushes off the jeep, getting closer to the Omega. Stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, the wolf leans in, “I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

The fox snorts and looks away, fighting the blush away at the minimal distance between them. “I just got you to Deaton. He’s the one who cut you open. If you’re going to thank anyone, you should be thanking him.”

“I already did,” the Alpha shrugs. “He told me what happened. What you did.”

“What I did?” Stiles repeats as his face scrunches. All he did was drive Brett to the clinic. And give him his wrist. And let the wolf scent him. Oh. The Omega leans back against his jeep, “it was nothing. Just being an Omega.” The fox winces internally, did he really just say that? “Just you know, doing my part to help a distressed Alpha.” Right.

“So when I pulled you closer, you stayed because you’re such a good Omega?” The wolf retorts and Stiles is pretending so hard that hearing that didn’t make him swoon. It wasn’t even the right context and the fox loved it.

“Yes?” The Omega squints. He can’t even lie to the Alpha let alone himself. Real smooth.

Suddenly Brett is inches away from his face. Not pressing against him, but definitely caging the fox to the vehicle. “You know, Deaton was very descriptive. He said that even unconscious, I scented you.” Stiles flushes and looks down, he’d hoped the wolf wouldn't remember that. Or be reminded of it. The Alpha uses his pointer and thumb on the fox’s chin to make eye contact again with intense green eyes. Biting his lip he asks, “why’d you let me?”

“You were hurt,” the Omega’s voice is just a touch over a whisper. “I pay attention enough in class to know that it’s helpful for you.”

“Oh?” Brett’s eyes twinkle as he grins. The hand holding his face drops and Stiles couldn’t stop the whine even if he wanted to. “That’s the only reason?” Liam is right there. Does Brett not care? “Are you sure? Nothing else?” The fox just gulps in response as he wills his heart to calm the fuck down. “Hmm, I guess I was wrong.” His tone is too light. The wolf knows exactly what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking working too.

Fuck.

The Omega opens and closes his mouth like he wants to say something, but no words make their way off his tongue. Stuck somewhere in the back of his throat and his brain just can’t make it operate properly. How does the Alpha manage to do this to him so easily? To turn the fox into a mess with a brush of his finger tips.

“Can I tell you what I think?”

“No!” Liam snarls from the passenger seat.

That gets Stiles to talk at least. “Shut up, Liam. Or do you want to walk home?” The fox turns back to the Alpha when the younger wolf starts grumbling to himself. “Enlighten me, Brett.”

The Alpha grins and Stiles fights his fox not to purr at the expression. “I think you like me,” the wolf playfully pokes his chest, “and I think you’re my mate. Don’t think I didn’t notice your eyes responding to mine when we met.” The wolf bites his lip again and the Omega wants to replace it with his own teeth. “Can I see what else responds to me?”

Liam is in the fucking car! So why, why does Stiles nod? Well that’s easy. He does like Brett. The fox would be overjoyed if the Alpha was his mate. His dad hasn’t exactly been subtle about the whole not having grandkids yet. Most Omegas have their first around sixteen and he’s pushing eighteen.

But the smile on Brett’s face after he nods stirs things in the fox. And he likes those things. Like assurance and contentment. Smelling the wolf’s affection mixing in with his own is mind melting. “Promise you won’t fight it?”

Defiant till his last breath, “that depends on what you plan on doing.”

“Nothing you tell me not to do,” Brett tells him. “You tell me to stop and I stop, simple as that.” The Alpha leans in and Stiles’ focus snaps, still hearing people walking to their cars.

“Wait!” The wolf cocks an eyebrow at him, looking rather amused. “Let me get Liam home. I can’t fucking think straight already. I’m sorry, I’m willing to let you do whatever weird ass test or game you’re playing at, but not here.” Stiles rounds the jeep and opens the driver door while the wolf follows. “Can you two be civil?”

“Whatever you want, pup,” Brett kisses his cheek. The skin flares instantly and the fox shudders. The Alpha leans into his ear, lips brushing the lobe, “reaction one.”

That just makes him flush harder as Brett climbs in the jeep. Liam is still shooting daggers at him. Pointing at the Beta he says, “not a fucking word.”

Thankfully Stiles made it to Liam’s with no bloodshed. Both wolves kept their mouths blissfully closed. Then again, the Omega kept the radio turned up a touch too loud. Oh well. The fox is already trying to mentally deal with the fact that Brett is more than likely his mate. Brett. Who looks like that is his mate? Stiles must’ve done something really good in a past life. Of course he remembers his eyes flashing back. But he’s cordial enough no to corner someone in public about it before they’re mated.

Brett also behaved on the short ride from the Beta’s house to his. Stiles gets out of the car without a word, too afraid he’ll embarrass himself and end up showing his neighbors more than they need to see. His nerves are starting to eat at him. Most mated pairs solidify their bond as soon as they realize they’re mates. Is that what Brett wants? Does Stiles want that?

He’s on suppressants, so it’s not like he’s going to get pregnant if they do bond. But the fox also knows nothing about Brett. Other than he’s a phenomenal lacrosse player, has a sister named Lori, and Liam hates him.

If Brett is his mate, then of course Stiles wants to be with him. But he can’t just stumble into something blindly, it’s not how the Omega operates. Unlocking his door, the fox still can’t bring himself to look at the Alpha. But he can feel the wolf behind him as they head up to his room. “You do know what it means to be with me, right?”

Following the Omega up the stairs, the wolf chuckles a delicious sound, “I have to play nice with Liam.” Dropping his bag on the floor by his desk, Stiles turns to face the Alpha with quirked brows. “But my mate would be worth it,” Brett leisurely crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“That’s good to know,” the fox shifts his stance, fingers curling and uncurling. Unsure if he wants Brett to stay where he is or pull the wolf closer. “So,” Stiles clears his throat. Because it’s now or never. The only way he’ll know is if they actually try anything. And you know, the Omega doesn’t stubbornly fight his instincts. That would help no one. “What exactly were you wanting to do?”

“Whatever you’ll let me,” Brett takes a small step into the room with an eyebrow raised in silent question. The fox nods and the Alpha closes the distance between them, raising a hand to cup Stiles’ face.

The Omega immediately leans into the touch, closing his eyes with a sigh. The Alpha’s contact is speaking directly to his fox and it loves every second of it. Brett’s hand is warm and comforting. It’s nice- right. The other wraps around his waist, pulling the fox close. Stiles all but melts into the embrace as the Alpha lets out a pleased rumble. Brett’s scent is wrapping around him better than any blanket ever could. Pure honey with a lemony citrus that just leaves the fox feeling warm and fuzzy.

“Look at me, pup.” Brett’s tone is soft and when Stiles opens his eyes, the Alpha’s irises are a searing red. The Omega knows his flash again; it makes him whine as his fox claws at his ribcage. Brett’s thumb brushes across his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, “Stiles?” The wolf’s gaze never strays from where the pad is still pressed against his lip, his request more than understood.

“Yes,” and the Omega slams his mouth onto the wolf’s. Stiles doesn’t even know if he or the Alpha opened their mouth first to deepen the kiss. All the fox knows is that Brett’s tongue is gliding with his and his body is buzzing. “I don’t know anything about you, Brett.” Stiles pants, pulling himself away from the Alpha no matter how much it hurts. “And you don’t know me.”

But the wolf is in his space again, pressing their chests together and cupping his cheek once more, “we can figure it out as we go, pup.” Brett strokes his jaw, “what are you so worried about? You said you pay attention in class, so you know that an Alpha would never do anything that would harm their mate. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

With a sigh, the fox shakes his head, “I just don’t like not knowing things. It feeds my anxiety,” Stiles admits, ducking his chin to look away.

Brett gently lifts his head with both hands, smiling at the Omega. “Okay,” the wolf leans in and gives him a small kiss. Dropping his hands, he takes the fox’s in his and leads Stiles towards his bed. Brett props himself against the headboard after taking his shoes off and the Omega follows. The wolf holds his hand out on his thigh, palm up and Stiles takes it. Entwining their fingers he asks, “what do you want to know?”

“Anything you’re willing to tell me, I guess.”

“Will you return the favor?”

“Sure,” Stiles smiles that the Alpha cares that much. “It’s only fair. How about I start simple, why do you play lacrosse?” He figures that’s probably the lightest thing, but also enough of a dig to satisfy his curiosity. “Other than the fact that you’re amazing at it,” the Omega chuckles.

The wolf laughs and Stiles can’t help but love the sound. “For Lori actually. I got really good and when Devenford begged me to come play for them- they offered me a full ride- I told them they had to take Lori too if they wanted me.” Brett shrugs, like that’s something anybody would do.

“That was nice of you,” because Stiles can’t imagine working his butt off like that just for a school sport.

“Yeah,” the Alpha clears his throat and his brows pull together for a second. “Our parents died in a fire when we were kids, I couldn’t risk her being sent somewhere else.” His hand tightens around the fox’s. Stiles easily returns the squeeze, understanding completely why Brett worked so hard.

“I’m sorry,” the Omega says as his voice grows distant. Lost in memories too painful to forget, “losing a parent is hard. Both must have been terrible.” Stiles stares at his feet, mindlessly twitching one.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” the wolf ducks his head to get the Omega’s attention and focus back. Those green eyes looking right in his soul and it somehow doesn’t make Stiles feel like he’s being analyzed or stripped apart. The fox feels nothing but the Alpha wanting to understand him. Know him.

“My mom. She uh-” his voice shakes and Brett squeezes his hand, thumb brushing his knuckles. “She died when I was nine. Dementia." Stiles huffs out a wet breath, still amazed at how much it stings to talk about. “I was alone with her at the hospital when it happened.” A sight and feeling that will forever be a part of his memory.

“Fuck, baby,” Brett pulls the fox into his lap, cradling him close. Stiles. The Omega didn’t know he’d started to cry until the wolf wiped a tear away. “I know it doesn’t help, believe me, I know. But I am sorry.” The Alpha doesn’t seem like as bad of a guy as Liam made him out to be. He’s done nothing but make the fox feel comfortable and wanted.

“Thanks,” Stiles sniffles, feeling warm and safe in the wolf’s arms. The fox tucks into Brett’s neck, gently rubbing his cheek to scent the skin. He starts to purr and Brett rumbles in his chest, further settling the Omega. “Sorry,” Stiles mumbles, “your scent is calming. I like it.”

“Don’t ever apologize for what you need to do to feel better. Not to me.” The wolf nuzzles to scent him back and successfully heats Stiles’ cheeks. “I will always be here for you. Whatever you need,” Brett holds him tighter, keeping the Omega curled into him and growling softly.

Just as Stiles is about to drift off, his dad comes home, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to move. Yeah, they’re on his bed, but they’re not even under the covers. And are fully clothed still. Plus, Brett smells so fucking good and is so goddamn comfortable and no one can really blame him.

“Who’s this?” The sheriff asks from the doorway.

Stiles wriggles just enough so that he’s laying more next to the Alpha than on top of him The wolf still has an arm around his shoulder. “Dad, this is Brett-”

“Hello, sir.”

“-my mate.”

There’s really no denying it at this point. In the last hour or so, Brett has calmed him quicker than anything ever has. All with his scent, a few growls, and a hand running along his spine. Stiles wants to curl back up into the security that is the wolf and never leave. He’s never felt that before around any Alpha. Not even when he was a kid and his dad would comfort him from a nightmare or a panic attack did it work this well. Brett’s his.

His father narrows his eyes at the pair, “did you two…”

“No, dad,” Stiles rolls his eyes. Not a conversation he wants to have right now. Did he mention they’re still clothed?

“Are you going to?” The sheriff asks a little too happily for Stiles’ taste. Right. The man wants grandkids. He could at least try and be a tad more subtle about it though.

The Omega snorts because of course this is his life. “Are you even comfortable with that?” Stiles is trying to wrap his mind around the prospect that his father would want to be in the same house when that happens.

His dad taps the doorframe as though seriously contemplating this. “I have to go back to the station in a few hours. Think you can wait?” The Omega’s jaw drops.

“Of course, sir.”

Did Stiles miss a part of this conversation? Was he not present here?

“Great! I’ll make dinner and we can talk about grandkids!”

“Dad,” Stiles groans, watching the man all but dash away. Brett simply laughs and pulls the fox closer to kiss his head.

“I want grandkids, Stiles!”

“And you’ll get them when I’m ready!”

Dinner was awkward. Painful and awkward. For Stiles at least. His father absolutely adored Brett. Which, yay! But listening to them talk about babies was a new form of torture Stiles hadn’t known existed. And he wishes he’d never learnt it in the first place.

His father’s quips like ‘brown hair and green eyes? That’d be something.’ Or the ‘think you’ll have more than one your first try? It’s possible, you know.’ Oh and let’s not forget the ‘how soon until you’re willing to try?’ Stiles gets it, okay? Most Omegas have children by now. The sheriff and his mom would talk about the probability of grandchildren all of the time. But fucking christ, the fox doesn’t know that he’s ready for that yet.

Thankfully, Brett is on the same page as Stiles with this. Telling the sheriff that it’d be as soon or as later as the fox wanted. And when his dad asked if they plan on having a whole litter, the wolf still responded in kind, ‘whatever Stiles wants, sir.’ It felt good knowing his mate was leaving it up to him. That the Alpha doesn’t see him as this machine meant to breed for him.

But now his dad is gone and they’re alone in his room again.

“I can feel your nerves better than I can smell them,” Brett notes, laying down with his elbow bent to support him. “We don’t have to officially do this if you’re not ready. I know you’re on suppressants, I can smell them. And I would’ve sent you into heat already if you weren’t.” The wolf smiles at him, “I’m just happy to be with you in any way that I can be.” Brett reaches out to where Stiles is leaning against his desk. “Come here.”

The fox takes the offered hand and the Alpha pulls him into the little spoon. Lips brush against the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “I want to,” the Omega sighs. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything with someone else.” The admission embarrassing him more than it probably should. But come on, have you seen Brett?

“You’ve never taken a heat partner at the center?” The wolf asks, with no hint of teasing to his tone whatsoever.

“Nope,” the fox states, “I suffered through my first one alone with the toys provided. I got my prescription for suppressants immediately. I never wanted to deal with that shit again.” His heat was awful and painful and he wanted nothing to do with it without an Alpha. Well, without his Alpha.

“Well damn,” Brett growls, the arm around his middle fisting at the hem of his shirt, “I feel special.”

“Have you never been someone’s heat partner?” Stiles asks incredulously. The fox has never heard of many Alphas that haven’t added their names to the list. There’s more Alphas than there are Omegas, but not many would miss the opportunity to help one through a heat if need be. Maybe Brett wanted to wait too.

“No. I lost my virginity to a Beta, but I didn’t knot them or anything. I can only do that with my mate.” The wolf strokes the skin under his shirt, leaving warmth along the trail. “You’ve really never been with anyone?”

“No.” Stiles shakes his head, “no one.” Mildly worried that will be an issue for the Alpha. Not everyone can handle dealing with an inexperienced partner.

“So I get to be your first and your last?” Brett kisses the nape of his neck, inhaling deeply. “You have no idea what that’s doing to my wolf. I thought it felt possessive of you before. But now?” The Alpha huffs out a breath around a laugh, “it’s a whole new level now.”

“Possessive, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Brett nips at the flesh at the crook, growling as he says, “mine.”

Stiles has always been a little shit at heart and one to poke the bear, “not yet, I’m not.” Because why wouldn’t he antagonize the wolf not two hours after accepting him as his mate?

Brett flips him on his back, laying on top of the fox and pressing his hips down to open Stiles’ legs. The Alpha’s eyes flash red before his nose runs down the fox’s neck, pushing his head back and the submission is granted willingly. Fangs tickle his neck making Stiles shiver. “Mine,” the wolf growls again, “say it, Stiles.” The whine from Brett seems involuntary, “please say you’re mine.” The Alpha looks up at him with pleading eyes, “even if we don’t mate right this minute. Say you’re mine.”

Now he had just wanted some good natured teasing. The Omega didn’t want to go and distress the wolf. “Of course I’m yours,” Stiles lifts his head to brush their lips together. “And of course we’re going to bond right this minute.” He may be on suppressants, but his body still produces slick for him, it’s starting to soak into his boxers at the simple thought of Brett biting him. Knotting him. Binding themselves to one another permanently.

Pure shock shoots Brett’s eyebrows up, “seriously?” There’s so much hope in his green eyes that the fox starts to purr. Overjoyed that his mate wants him this badly.

“Seriously,” Stiles tries to pull the wolf back in for another kiss.

But the Alpha stops him with a smirk, “what about not knowing enough about me?”

“Have you murdered anybody?” Stiles asks, but even then he’s sure he would care all that much if there was a good reason for it. He wants Brett; his mate. What’s so bad about that?

“No,” the wolf chuckles, “I could if need be. But no, I haven’t.”

“Then later,” the fox spews, need rising inside of him from the heat of the Alpha still resting between his legs. “Just touch me, please,” lifting his head to try for contact once more.

Brett chuckles against his lips, “anything for you, pup.” The Alpha’s tongue is sliding inside his already open mouth and the Omega moans around the kiss. “If you had been okay with it,” the wolf bites his jaw, “I would’ve dragged you away the first time I met you.” Knowing that the star player contemplated giving up playing a game for him is muddling his brain in the most beautiful way.

Fingers hook in the hem of the Alpha’s shirt, lifting it enough to feel the abs underneath and Stiles is purring all over again. How sculpted Brett is fucking kills him. How in the hell did he manage to win the lottery with this guy? Someone this hot and caring, seems like magic more than anything. But hey, he’s not complaining. Especially when the wolf reaches behind his back and pulls his shirt off. Not a sight that Stiles is unfamiliar with, but different in an intimate setting, slick slides out of him once more.

And the Alpha smells it. Growling low in his throat, he leans back, dragging the fox’s pants and boxers off as he goes. Hooded green eyes staring him down the entire way. Somehow the Omega manages to lift up enough to get his own shirt off and throws it in the general direction of his desk. Fully naked and exposed for Brett, Stiles is surprised that he’s not the least bit embarrassed like he thought he’d be.

Not when Brett says, “you look stunning,” while rubbing his hands along every inch of flesh he can touch, “so beautiful, so perfect.” Kissing the fox’s thighs as he grabs under his knees to lift the Omega’s legs up. The Alpha growls at the scent of slick and arousal and need coming off Stiles in pungent waves, and all for him. A steady trail of precum leaks from Stiles’ dick as it twitches from the wolf’s eyes burning scarlet as he ever so slowly inches closer towards the dripping hole. The rumble in his chest only increases once Brett’s tongue slips inside and Stiles gasps, fingers fisting into the sheets at the sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” the fox moans, a finger slipping inside next to the Alpha’s tongue and the barely there burn feels good more than it hurts. It’s invigorating. Intoxicating. And he needs, “more,” grinding his hips down on the wolf’s face and hand. “Brett,” he groans when another finger pushes in knuckle deep and the wolf starts to scissor them. That is just a delicious feeling and he’s reeling, moaning for the Alpha with every breath.

A sharp whine pulls out of the Omega when Brett removes his fingers and he gently shushes him by sucking on the tip of his cock. Savoring every drop of precum that’s offered like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever tasted. “Turn over, pup,” the Alpha nudges his hip, “it’ll be more comfortable for you, I promise.” Brett helps him up and onto his knees and the wolf’s fingers push inside him again. Whatever thought Stiles had about laying on his back being better is gone when the tips brush against something that makes his eyes roll back. “There it is,” Brett purrs.

Stiles shoves his head into the pillow to stifle the absolute guttural moan from the teasing turning to deliberate jabs to his prostate. Nothing could’ve prepared him for how good this feels. Fingering himself and using toys are one thing. Having someone else do it- and really fucking well, he might add- is a whole different story. Knowing that Brett is the one so artistically working him open. “Oh my god,” he groans when two becomes three and the wolf starts to thrust his hand in earnest.

He can’t think, he can’t breathe. Nothing in his brain is registering apart from where Brett is touching him. The soft kisses placed along his spine. The free hand running tenderly through his hair as though his fingers aren’t nested so deeply inside of him. “You’re doing so good, Stiles,” the Alpha growls, the vibrations on his back shooting waves of pleasure through him. The distinct sound of fabric tearing echoes in his ears and Brett once again takes his fingers out.

No amount of pushing his hips back gets them to return. Not that it matters when Brett grabs his waist with one hand and the other rubs his cock against Stiles’ stretched ass. The Omega whines, needing his mate inside of him. “Alpha,” he groans when he still can’t move enough with the grip on his waist.

Brett chuckles, leaning down to kiss the nape of his neck, “sorry, pup,” his breath is hot against Stiles’ skin. And in an instant it’s gone as the Alpha lifts back up and positions the head of his cock again. But with no more teasing this time, slowly sinking himself inch by perfect inch inside the fox, his slick doing wonders at making it nearly painless. “Holy shit, Stiles,” the wolf hisses, fully seated and the Omega’s hole clenches around him instinctively.

“S-sorry,” he gasps, unable to control it at this point. The same thing happened with the toy at the heat center. But not even the silicone had him feeling so wonderfully full like his Alpha does. Touching every part of him like he’d carved his very own mold for himself out of Stiles’ body. Maybe he did. And maybe that’s more than okay with the Omega.

The Alpha groans, pulling out and lazily rocking forward until Stiles whines again. “Don’t apologize, baby,” Brett does it again, groaning at the heat of the fox. “I want you just as much,” he growls, snapping his hips this time, continuing a punishing rhythm that yanks moans out of Stiles’ chest. A hand runs up the Omega’s spine, placing a hold at the nape of his neck as Brett drives into him.

Gasping, Stiles tilts his head to the side, a clear act of submission. An invitation for the Alpha to claim. To bite his Omega and make them one. “Brett,” the fox grits out, heat rising in his gut with every pointed thrust to the bundle of nerves deep inside. The hand leaves his neck only to be replaced by the wolf’s lips. Kissing feather light towards the crook. “Please.”

“You’re mine, Stiles,” Brett snarls, fangs scraping against the skin, “mine.” The Alpha pierces his flesh, branding a mark on Stiles’ neck with his teeth until he cries out. Initiating the permanent bond between Alpha and Omega. The screams from the fox only rise when the intensity in which Brett is thrusting into him increases, making the coil inside the Omega wind incredibly tight until it snaps and he coats the blanket with his release. It’s only when his knot starts to form that the wolf removes his fangs and licks the wound clean. Wrapping a hand around Stiles’ throat, he lifts the Omega flush with his chest. “Your turn, pup.”

It’s a novel idea that the Omega can even focus enough with how much pleasure is rushing through his body, making his toes go numb and his vision blur. But he does. Stiles turns as much as the position will allow and sinks his fangs into the offered flesh of the wolf’s neck, albeit a little high on the skin, but no less meaningful. Forever sealing their bond, the fingers around his throat tighten ever so slightly as Brett howls. The same feeling of ‘us’ running through their veins.

When Stiles lets go, he too cleans his Alpha- his mate of the blood that spilled. Brett uses a thumb on his jaw to tilt the Omega’s head into a bruising kiss, thrusting harshly until his knot catches and he can only grind against the fox. The Omega starts to slip as the wolf chases his own release, but the hand steadily holding his throat and wrapping around his middle keeps him grounded. Finally, with a grunted moan of his own, Brett cums. Filling his new mate with his hot seed, his knot trapping it inside.

The wolf nuzzles the mark on Stiles’ neck, holding tightly to the fox as he catches his breath. “You’re so perfect, Stiles. So perfect,” the Alpha kisses the abused flesh, groaning when more of his release shoots out. “Move with me, pup,” Brett tells him and together, they very carefully manage to lay down on their sides tugging at the knot only once. “Thank you,” the wolf peppers kisses along his shoulder blade as Stiles settles into his arms.

“What are you possibly thanking me for?” The Omega asks with a snort.

Brett growls again, “for being mine.”

“Then I guess I should be thanking you for showing up at school today, too.”

“Please,” the Alpha nips at the bite, eliciting a shiver from the fox, “I was yours the minute I stepped off the bus.” Brett chuckles, “we just had a little mishap to get through first.”

“I was a little confused, but deep down I think I knew it too.” Stiles smiles, tucking his blush into the wolf’s arm though he couldn’t see it either way. “You’re my Alpha.”

“I’m your Alpha,” Brett agrees with another press of his lips to his neck.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #brett talbot #brett x stiles #briles #stilesrarepairweek #stilesrarepairweek2021 #day 7: dealer's choice #Match Writes

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