summary: stiles finds out you're dereks sister and has to cope with the news lol
warnings: none, just canon typical losers flirting lol
note: just gonna leave this here lmao. this is just a little drabble, but i hope you guys like it!!
âlet me just clarify this. when you say brother, you meanâŠâ
âbrotherâ
ââŠrightâ stiles nodded. âand thatâs like a 100% sure, yeah? no chance of misconduct orââ
âstilesâ
"okay, you know what? it's fine" stiles smiled, but did not look even close to being fine. "i mean what's a little relation to derek hale, when there are far worse monsters, right?"
"right." you nodded, trying your best to help stiles calm himself down.
"i mean has he ever talked about me.. to you, i mean?" his gaze narrowed as he searched your face for any hints of rememberance. "i think he likes me."
"well," you paused, trying to think of the time before you had come back to beacon hills and what your brother had said about scott mccall and his idiot friend. "he's definitely mentioned you."
"ha!" stiles called, a victorious smile settling onto his face. his fist swung through the air and just nearly missed you as you swerved to the side quickly. "eh, sorry," he excused. "i'm still getting used to all these new proportions."
"are you talking about puberty?"
"well, it was a hard time for me, okay?" he bit back. "everything happened so quickly. likeâ like being hit by a bus. but not in a fun way."
"there's a fun way?"
"iâ" stiles blinked. "it's definitely more fun than being ripped to shreds by your brother when he finds me here." stiles made a large gesture to signal that he was not supposed to be here. in your room. at night. in the loft you shared with derek.
"why are you emphasizing the word brother like that?" you furrowed your brows.
"ever heard of the phrase 'foreign concept'?" stiles muttered, before he lowered himself onto the bed in front of you. "i mean how is that possible? like biologically?"
"well, when a man and a womanâ"
"don't" stiles interrupted. "you're supposed to be serious."
"you're not really serious either, are you?" you crossed your arms and leaned back against the headboard.
"i'm not supposed to be. i'm allowed to fight trauma with the inappropriate use of sarcasm. it's who i am. you shouldn't even be able to detect a joke or crack a smile, considering who raised you." he send a side-eye in your direction before he continued rambling. "and as always it's just my luck that i am hopelessly into someone who's related to derek hale. this is just greatâ"
"you're hopelessly into me?" you repeated surprised.
"i said someone related to derek hale." stiles corrected. "i could very well be talking about your mother."
"are you talking about my mother?" you repeated with a roll of your eyes.
"nah"
"okay, that's good. because you know she's dead, so your love would be doomed from the start."
"yeah, good argument, actually." stiles nodded repeatedly. "glad we talked about this. now that i've revealed my interest, is there a slight chanceâ i mean statistically speaking and considering, uh, that iâ"
you interrupted promptly, taking his face into your hands and moving him so close, your lips were not far from touching. "you should stop talking."
"uh, yeah, i probably should"
you kissed himâquick, impulsive, no time for words. it was over in a second, but it left both of you breathless, staring at each other, the tension thick in the air.
your eyes wandered over the stunned expression on his face, before you moved closer once more, softly kissing him again.
the door to your room flew open with a bang and you and stiles jumped apart, similiarly surprised at the sudden sound.
your brother was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowing at the scene in front of him and stiles quickly moved his hand away from your thigh, as if derek's stare alone had burned it.
"stiles." derek growled. "you have about five seconds to get your slimy little lips away from my sister before i rip you to shreds."
stiles shot you a look that clearly said "i told you so" before scrambling to his feet and practically bolting out of the loft, not bothering to say another word.
you couldn't help but smile up at your older brother. "oh derek, do you always have to be such a sourwolf?"
derekâs lips twitched into a humorless smirk. âyeah, okay. thatâs it. you're officially banned from ever seeing him again.â
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The bold was written by my favorite poet, Robert M. Drake.
ââââââââââ
Ever since I could remember, I hated the way I was made. I hated my eyes, my voice, my smile, my body, my laugh. I despised everything that made me who I was. My insecurities screamed profanities and insults at me. I was stupid, useless, worthless, a failure. The way I saw myself made my heart break. Every breath I inhaled was a poison to my lungs. I hated life, and living the one I had made me feel like fate was made to terrorize me.
The demons in my head were violently fighting my mind, and I was losing that fight. I could feel myself slowly fall apart. I had been clawed at, shot, savagely attacked by the horrible creatures in Beacon Hills, and still my own mind caused me the most damage. My friends never knew of the struggles I faced. I cared about them too much to let them suffer through my thoughts.
Scott had been through so much already, and as an Alpha, he didnât need my problems as well. We all had just lost Allison, he didnât need to deal with my pain as well. If he had known about what I was going through, he would put his life on hold to help me get better. Scott McCall was the kind of friend that would go through hell just to make sure you were doing okay, and he deserved to be able to heal. Your best friend deserved a better friend.
Lydia just lost her closest friend. The only reason we became friends was because Allison dated Scott. To you, your friendship felt forced. She didnât need you in her life in general, so why would you go to her? Your distress was a petty thing compared to the death of the girl she saw as a sister. You were invaluable to her. She was mourning and your problem wasnât as important as hers was. She needed her space.
Isaac went to France with Argent, but you werenât exactly close to him either. He was just your brotherâs ex beta. You werenât a werewolf, so Derek never had you around Isaac while he was training him. Derek had left with Cora a while ago, and he wasnât known for being communicative. None of the Hales were really. Your uncle Peter could care less about your problems. Peter didnât care about anyone but Peter. Derek never called. He had just abandoned you. He left you as alone as you always felt.
Thatâs what you were. Alone, alone to drown in your sorrows, and you poisoned mind. I was the embodiment of heartbreak and misery. My mind and soul tore me down and left me a shell of a being. I was a ghost of who I used to be, and what hurt the most was that no one cared enough to notice. I cared too much. I cared for my friends even if they didnât need or want me. I would always be there for them, even if I cried to sleep every night, and awoken by my monstrous nightmares two hours later. I would always stand tall for them even if I was falling apart inside. They could never know my pain, they never saw it anyways.
A knock on the loft door shakes me out of my thoughts. I shake my head and quickly wipe away the few tears that had fallen down my face. I walk towards the door and slide it open. I look up to see my other best friend, Stiles. I give him a soft smile and let him inside. I walk towards the living room and he silently follows me. We both sit on the couch and I patiently wait for him to say something.
âYouâve been acting differently lately, and I know everyone is so focused on mourning Allison that they havenât noticed. Iâm your best friend, Iâd like to think youâd know I would realize the change.â He tells you.
âI was mostly hoping you wouldnât notice like the rest of them. Iâd feel less guilty.â I tell him.
âWhy would you feel guilty?â Stiles questions.
âGuilty for the way I feel. My feelings need to take a back burner. Allison is what matters.â I say.
âYou do too.â He states.
âNo, sheâs what matters right now.â I reject his words.
"I donât believe that. Maybe I hope too much. Maybe I dream too much. Or maybe I love you too much to just give up on you.â He says passionately.
âIâm a waste on your love.â I inform him.
âThat might be what you believe, but Iâll be damned if I ever let you give up on yourself. Iâd die before you could give up on yourself.â He answers. He reaches out for you, and you notice how close you two have gotten. Your knees touch his and you can feel his breath on your face. Your eyes water as his words sink in, and you close your eyes. You move your head to the side and try to avoid his eyes. He grabs your chin and you open your eyes to look at him. You see the love he holds for you. You can see how much heâs willing to fight for you, and suddenly a part of the darkness in your heart disappears. That moment made me realize something, maybe love was meant to save us from ourselves.
