reading fanfic, living life

Scott needed to stop running his mouth to everybody who would listen about Stiles’ stupid crush on Lydia Martin. First he tells Y/N and she tried to set them up together at a party, which totally sucked. Then he tells Allison and she fucking tried to set them up, too!

And this is the story of how Stiles ended up shopping for a suit to take Lydia, of all people, to the winter formal. And Y/N and Scott were with him, trying stuff on and being silly and laughing while Stiles was barely holding himself together. Because Y/N came out of her cabin in a nicely tailored suit looking like a dream come true and he couldn’t think, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t think.

“You look like a James Bond reject,” Scott teased.

She started fiddling with the cuffs of the jacket’s sleeves and Stiles held his breath. Stiles never imagined Y/N in a suit and he feared that after that day, he’d never imagine her in anything but a suit. The shirt seemed to be satin, shiny and soft and so inviting to touch. The boy shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from acting like a fool.

It was so her, comfortable and chic and not like anything anyone else was going to wear. Because if Y/N was anything, she was unique, she was her own person, unbothered by what others thought of her.

Stiles found himself staring at one particular button on her shirt, one that seemed to be trying to hold together the two pieces of fabric over her chest. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“You should wear it, it looks good on you.”

He hoped the words came out as ‘supportive friend’ and not betrayed how hard it was for him to look anywhere but at her in that moment.

“Entirely out of my price range,” the girl made a funny face. “But I might send Malia a picture just to see what she says.”

Stiles watched the girl pop open a button with one hand before dragging the drapes of the changing cabin to cover with the other. He tried very hard not to think about what pictures Erica was receiving, how many buttons had been undone behind those drapes, and what color bra might be visible from underneath that satin shirt.

“Ew, gross,” he heard Scott comment and he wasn’t sure if he meant his cousin sending Malia sexy pictures or the way Stiles was still staring like a creep at that cabin.

Maybe he should’ve said no to Allison – but then again, what was he going to do instead? Sulk in a corner the whole night and watch Y/N dance and have fun with Malia? Stay at home and cry over the chance he blew when Y/N asked him who he was going with?

That day was going to be embedded in his memory like a scar.

“Are you taking anyone to the formal, Stiles?”

The question came almost out of the blue, only tangentially related to the subject they were talking about. Which was that Scott wasn’t allowed to go to the formal because he was failing his classes.

“I don’t think I’m going, actually,” the boy ended up murmuring.

He didn’t have a date and if he couldn’t go with Scott and hang out like sad losers at some table, what was the point? He’d made his peace with not going to the school dance anyway for a while now. Even if Scott could go, he would’ve gone with Allison anyway. Ever since she showed up, their friendship hadn’t been the same. Scott’s been spending more time with her than with Stiles and while it pushed him closer to Y/N, which he was grateful for, he still missed his best friend.

He couldn’t go with Scott and he definitely couldn’t go with Y/N alone. If they went as a group, it would’ve been different, but just the two of them, even just going as friends, would spell disaster. Especially because Stiles found it harder and harder not to confess his feelings every time they were alone for five minutes.

A few days later, when Stiles was reliving that moment in his head (He relays every conversation he’s ever had with Y/N to go to sleep, it helps) it dawned on him.

“She was going to ask me out, wasn’t she?” he whispered in the dark to no one in particular.

He grabbed the phone like it was an emergency, calling Scott in the middle of the night because he just had to know.

“When Y/N asked me about the formal, do you think she wanted me to invite her?”

“Hello to you, too,” Scott mumbled, half asleep.

“Answer the question!” Stiles found himself yelling, then immediately regretted it.

“I don’t know, dude. Probably? We don’t exactly braid each other’s hair and talk about boys.”

Stiles could hear the annoyance in his friend's voice and he felt guilty for waking him up, but on the other hand, if he didn’t get some sort of answer, he might never sleep again in his life. So he was really the victim here.

“Please? I don’t want you to tell me if she said anything to you. Just… from your perspective, does it look like she likes me?”

Scott let out a defeated sigh.

“You didn’t hear this from me, ok?” then a moment of silence like he was having second thoughts about divulging a secret. “Her heart was beating pretty fast when she asked you that question.”

“Wait a second, does her heartbeat usually pick up around me? I forgot you could tell that.”

“I’m not ratting out my cousin Stiles, good night.”

And before Stiles could say anything else like ‘thank you’ Scott hung up the phone.

Was there a world in which Y/N was nervous around him? A world in which they went to the winter formal together and danced and had fun and maybe shared a kiss at the end? And the kiss was tender and careful because in his own head, Stiles could control himself around this girl. And maybe, by the end of the night, they proclaimed their feeling for each other and lived happily ever after.

Regardless, it was too late for that in this reality. Because the very next day, Y/N had shown up at school with a flower bouquet, and when Stiles asked who gave it to her, she said she bought it for Malia. That she was asking her to the dance and she liked being extra. Somehow knowing that she got that bouquet for someone else instead of from someone else made it worse in Stiles’ mind.

If only he hadn’t been such a clueless idiot…

So when Allison told Stiles she convinced Lydia to give him a chance, he took it. He wasn’t as elated as he would’ve been a few months ago, but at least he had a date. Beats staying home and playing chess with his dad.

Stiles couldn’t believe he was so unenthusiastic about a date with the Lydia Martin and all because he couldn’t get Y/N out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried – and he’d tried!

“It would be cheaper to just rent something,” Stiles ended up murmuring, realizing he hadn’t made a noise in a while and it looked suspicious.

It wasn’t worth it to buy an entire suit just for one night, since he had no other place to wear it. Unless someone died. And he didn’t really care what he would look like, he just wanted to avoid Lydia going off on him for making her look like an idiot. He was her date and so he reflected her in some way; he needed to be as put together as her.

The drapes of the cabin swayed to the side and revealed Y/N, now in her normal everyday clothes. Stiles let out a breath of relief, knowing that he could look at her without his heart dropping in his stomach.

“Then let’s stop wasting time here,” Y/N urged the boys out of the store.

Stiles should be elated in this moment. He was dancing with Lydia, her head resting against his chest, their movement slow and she smelled like a field of flowers. He should be on cloud nine – instead he keeps looking over the girl’s head at Y/N. She’s in the opposite corner of the gym, dancing with her date. Malia’s hands are resting gently above Y/N’s hips and Stiles swears he can feel his blood boiling.

That should be me, that should be me, that should be me.

She’s not wearing a suit and Stiles wonders if it’s just because she wanted to wear a dress instead or because she wanted to spite him. Like the moment he complimented her was the moment she chose to wear something else entirely. Maybe she just didn’t want to stand out as the only girl in a suit at that dance or maybe Malia saw the pictures and said she didn’t like it. In which case, Malia would be a fool and blind.

The blonde leans close to Y/N’s ear and says something that makes the girl laugh so hard Stiles could see it, although he couldn’t hear it. He wished he had Scott’s super hearing right now so he could know what Malia said. It probably wasn’t even that funny.

It should be me making her laugh, it should be me.

He can’t help but stare and hope some supernatural disaster would happen and put an end to his misery.

Stiles remembered that he was still dancing with a different partner, whom he was ignoring completely. He tried to move his attention back to Lydia, feeling guilty for ignoring her for so long, only to realize that she was also looking around the gym completely oblivious to him.

“I think Jackson left,” he says in her ear.

The ginger jumps a bit, like she completely forgot about Stiles’ presence, like she wasn’t literally wrapped in his arms.

“I’m just worried about him, that’s all,” she defends herself. “So, which one is the unlucky girl? Malia or Y/N?”

Stiles looked stumped, even though he made no effort to hide how much he was staring down the two girls dancing.

“Scott asked me to keep an eye on his cousin since he can’t be here tonight,” he lied so unconvincingly a child wouldn’t buy it.

“Ugh, don’t play dumb with me, Stiles. You used to worship the ground I walked on until she showed up.”

The boy tried to conjure the feelings he once had for the redhead, but the version of him whose heart skipped a beat around Lydia felt so foreign to him. He remembered he started noticing Lydia after that summer Y/N disappeared. It had been his first summer without her since he met her – since he could remember, really. He waited the whole summer and when school began that fall, he finally had to accept that he won’t see her that year.

He was dejected and heartbroken and had the harrowing feeling he would never see Y/N again.

And Lydia had changed a lot during that summer from the shy nerd no one looked at twice to miss popular. It intrigued him. He used to stare at her hair in class because he liked the color, but now he was noticing all these new things about her that he hadn’t before, like her voice and her curves and her make up. And she was pretty and way out of his league and Stiles was lonely and with so much love in his heart and for the first time with no one to direct that love towards.

He used to fantasize about Y/N moving in Beacon Hills so he can see her year round. He’d daydream about her walking in math class and sitting down next to him. Now here she was; in his classes, on the bleachers at his lacrosse games, and right now – in the gym at his school dance. And he blew it.

He blew it with Y/N and he blew it with Lydia, and he was never going to find love. Which was a strangely comforting thought because if he couldn’t be with Y/N, Stiles wasn’t sure he even wanted to find love. It felt like he had loved her all his life, he couldn’t remember his life before her or the few years when she was gone. There was no before or after Y/N. There was no other girl for him, either. He tried to distract himself with Lydia for years and now that Y/N was around he couldn’t even remember what he liked about Lydia to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed defeated. “It wasn’t fair to bring you here just to stare at her. You have my undivided attention for the rest of the night, promise.”

It hurt to say but it was the right thing, the gentlemanly thing to do. And his mom raised him to be a gentleman.

But before he was done talking Lydia once again started looking around for someone.

“Or,” Stiles pivoted. “You could go look for your ex while I wait for you here. Get it out of your system.”

It seemed that was all it took for Lydia to take off looking for Jackson, leaving Stiles in the dust. It’s not like he could crash Y/N’s date and profess his feelings, it was unfair towards Malia. However, the way the blonde’s hands wrapped around Y/N’s body was not very fair towards him either.

“So unfair,” he found himself muttering.

Then the strangest chain of events unfolded in front of him. He noticed Scott dancing with Allison, in spite of him being very much prohibited from the dance; coach Finstock walking towards the couple yelling Scott’s name; Y/N expertly dodging through the crowd and grabbing the coach into a couple pirouettes, leading him away from her cousin; him murmuring something about how strong she was for a teenage girl and how they needed someone like her on the team before finally breaking free of her and once again looking for Scott; Scott grabbing Danny just in time to start dancing with him, making coach look like a major asshole who ended up walking away from the two boys with his tail between his legs.

The whole ordeal was glorious to witness but most importantly: Y/N was alone. After she danced a little with coach she was left drifting all alone in the crowd. This was Stiles’ god given opening, it had to be.

He came up behind her, landed a hand on her shoulder to announce his presence before he spoke.

“Always getting your cousin in and out of trouble, aren’t you?”

He wished he hadn’t leaned in so close to her ear because when she turned around, their lips were so close it pained him not to kiss her. She looked in his eyes and then at his lips until finally stepping away before either of them did something shameful.

“Dress looks good,” Stiles muttered.

He allowed himself one slow long look down her body and all the way back up under the excuse that he was taking in the dress. He had never seen her all done up before, if you don’t count the few kids birthday parties they attended.

“You clean up pretty well, too, Stilinski.”

She had never called him by his last name before. And what was that sting in her voice?

“Thought you weren’t going to the formal,” the girl said with unmistakable tension. “But I guess Lydia gets what Lydia wants. And tonight she wants you.”

If Stiles hadn’t known any better he’d say she sounded jealous. He would also say that he loved the idea of Y/N being jealous of Lydia. Like anyone in the universe could even hold a candle to her.

“Actually she ditched me for Jackson,” Stiles admitted.

A part of him wanted to lie. He wanted to say that him and Lydia are having a great time tonight and gauge Y/N’s reaction, see if her eye twitched or her jaw clenched. He wanted her to want him, to regret not spending the night in his arm as much as he was regretting not holding her.

“Dick move,” Y/N scoffed picking at something on Stiles’ jacket.

Her hand was on him and she was still sitting so close and he could smell the bubblegum on her breath. From this distance under the dancing lights he could tell the girl was wearing lip gloss, the thick sticky kind that you can’t wipe away easily. What would it feel like to kiss her?

“It’s ok, I only brought her because Allison asked me.”

Stiles found himself chewing on his lower lip like that would stop him from leaning in and doing the one thing he’s been wanting to do for so long.

“C’mon then, you can join me and Malia.”

Before he could protest or ask any questions, Y/N grabbed the boy by the tie and dragged him around the gym like a dog on a leash. He was almost embarrassed at how quickly he started following her, how natural it was for her to lead and for him to obey. Malia gave him a scrutinizing look at first, but after Y/N explained the situation she gave a nonchalant shrug.

Y/N, still with her back to Stiles, grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, slightly swaying them to the rhythm of the music. Malia, facing her, wrapped her arms around the girl’s neck, matching her movements fluidly.

His movements were rigid and mismatched, falling behind. He was nervous and sweaty and out of breath. He kept trying to keep up while keeping his distance because if he were any closer to Y/N she would know just how much he liked her in that dress.

How did he end up dancing with not one but two hot girls at the winter formal, none of them being the girl he brought to this event? How did he go from staring longingly at these girls from across the gym to dancing with them both?

Y/N turned her head around and whispered something in his ear, something it took Stiles multiple seconds to process because he was too preoccupied with his movement to pay attention to words.

“Relax, we’re having fun.”

But it felt like they were having fun at his expense. Like they were in on a joke he wasn’t a part of. Like they were cats playing with their prey. He needed to get out and cool down. The heat radiating off of Y/N’s body was making him dizzy. That plus the boiling rage he felt as Malia pressed her body closer and closer to Y/N until they were basically flushed against one another.

Get off her. Mine, mine mine.

Spurred by a moment of unbridled jealousy, Stiles pulled Y/N towards himself, and away from the blonde. All three of them now packed together tightly like lego pieces. Y/N swayed her hips at just the right angle to gain a stifled moan from Stiles.

Shit.

“I should go look for Lydia,” Stiles found himself murmuring as he took a few steps back so he could think.

He was pretty sure his brain stopped working that exact moment because he was rock hard and Y/N looked beautiful, and her body pressed against him felt amazing.

He started walking towards the gym door in the hopes that some fresh air would do him some good. Maybe he’ll actually look for Lydia. Anything but staying in that compromising position for even just another second.

It was just Stiles’ luck that he’d end up out of the frying pan and into the fire. Out of the dance and into the claws of the alpha they’ve been hunted by for months.

“Hurry up and type in the password before your girlfriend finds us.”

Stiles’ hands froze on the keyboard. What girlfriend? Clearly he wasn’t talking about Lydia since he put her in the hospital. He must be talking about Y/N, but how would he know about her? Has he been stalking their group? Lurking in the shadows, learning their secrets?

No. He noticed Peter sniffing him earlier, considering how he’d been all over Y/N just half an hour ago, he probably smelled like her and the alpha drew a conclusion from that. He closed his fists for a second, still able to feel the fabric of Y/N’s dress rubbing on his palms. He might not make it out of this alive so he wanted to just savor this last piece of her he had left.

Peter gave him a stern glare and he went right back to typing.

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends.”

He didn’t know for sure why he felt the need to clarify. Maybe he didn’t want Peter knowing just how important Y/N was to him. Or he wanted to distance himself from her, knowing she was probably having prom sex with Malia in her room-attic.

This is the worst moment to be jealous.

“Oh, so you let her mark you platonically, then. Kids these days have no consideration for tradition.”

Mark? Tradition? Stiles tried not to think too much about what Peter was saying, the ramblings of a lunatic werewolf who spent far too long isolated in a hospital. He wasn’t making any sense.

“If I do this for you, promise you won’t hurt her.”

There is was, the thing Stiles was really worrying about underneath all the jealousy and anger and bitterness.  He was terrified something bad could happen to Y/N, something he could have prevented.

“I can promise I won’t attack her first. But if you don’t do this fast enough and she finds us here after I kidnapped you, I can’t guarantee anything.

“You seem hell bent on Y/N looking for me and being able to find me.”

“Trust me, there’s not a hole in the ground I could dig to hide you from her, not when you’re her pet. It’s only a matter of time before she gets here.”

Peter Hale wasn’t, by far, the first person to call Stiles Y/N’s pet. Majority of the people doing it were guys from the lacrosse team; mostly because he follows her around like a puppy and does whatever she asks, right on command. But Peter was saying it different than all the guys on the team, like the word had a different meaning he wasn’t privy to.

He hoped for Y/N’s sake she wasn’t going to show up. Even though it might be his only chance of making it out of here alive, he didn’t want to take the chance of her getting hurt. He knew just how reckless and aggressive she got, especially when it came to him. When something as small as shoulder checking him in the hallways meant Y/N would pick you up and throw you into the lockers with the ease someone might throw around a dodge ball. He didn’t want to know what she would do to Peter if she found him here, drilling his claws into Stiles’ shoulder to force him to work faster. Or what she would try to do, no matter how powerful Y/N was, she was no match for an alpha.

He started typing faster, not because Peter was strong-arming him, but because he didn’t want Y/N appearing any moment and jumping into a fight she can’t win.

“So this protectiveness she has over me, is it because of the ‘mark’?” Stiles asked, his eyes trained on the laptop still.

Might as well get some answers before he finishes his work and Peter snaps his neck. Since he couldn’t get answers from Y/N – God, Y/N – he’ll never see her again. He’ll never get to confess his feelings. She’ll never know how much she means to him. For just how long his heart has been beating for her.

He should’ve kissed her at the dance. Malia would’ve killed him for it, if Y/N didn’t do it first, but at least he wouldn’t die like this. Alone in some dark, underground parking lot, wondering what Y/N’ lips would have felt against his. She’d be the last thing on his heart right as it stops beating and she’ll have no idea.

He froze for a second as that last realization hit him. Peter’s claws dug just a little deeper into his shoulder, a nonverbal way of telling him to get back to typing.

“Well, I imagine she felt pretty protective over you to begin with, that’s why she marked you. Of course, that bond between werewolf and human pet has a way of intensifying preexisting feelings.”

There it was, that word again, pet. It gave Stiles goosebumps.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I could help, you know. Give you the bite. Then you could be together as equals. Werewolf-pet relationships have a history of ending in tragedy.”

Stiles stopped typing for a few seconds to make sure he heard Peter right. Bite him? As in… to turn him?

“I don’t care that she’s a werewolf. She’d never hurt me.”

He said it with the same conviction religious people use to talk about God and Scientists about gravity. Something great, unchangeable, inevitable. The great forces of the Universe, God, gravity and Stiles’ trust for one particular girl.

She wouldn’t hurt him, she wouldn’t have it in her. In spite of her insistence to postulate like she hates everyone and everything, Stiles knew her better. She was mean and loud and aggressive but also… when you take the time to know her, kind and gentle and patient. She’s shown Stiles patience no one has before.

When he was a kid, Stiles had a tendency to ramble on and on about subjects that were only interesting to him. He’d go on tangents, forget what he was talking about, add so much unnecessary detail, until everyone around him stopped listening. But not Y/N. She’d ask questions, prompt him to continue when she saw he was losing steam because no one else cared what he had to say. She had no idea but it meant the world to him back then.

“Aw, you love her. How sad,” Peter cooed in an unsympathetic voice. “Do you know what they call a prey animal who is in love with a predator? Dinner.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Well, she cares about me, too, so what do you call that?”

He hated how defensive he sounded. He believed it wholeheartedly, Y/N cared about him a great deal. But Peter didn’t need to know that. He had nothing to prove to him.

“Tell me, had she tried to attack you yet?”

There was that one time she was in her room wearing headphones, listening to music, when Stiles passed by her room. He thought it would be funny to sneak up on her and scare her a little, because she did that to him all the time. Her door was already wide open and she was busy with sorting through her bookshelves, the chance was too good to pass up.

She ended up wrestling him to the ground as soon as he entered her room, both of his wrists were pinned above his head by either one of her hands and she was straddling him in a such a way, her knee was right between his legs.

Of course, her ears were covered, but her sense of smell was sharp as ever. He assumed she allowed him to get as close as he did just so she can flip the script on him. But as he tried to wriggle out of her grasp he realized with shock that he couldn’t, his wrists stayed firmly in place.

He assumed she’d find this amusing, she’d laugh about how powerless Stiles was compared to her, but the sound that came out of her throat sounded an awful lot like a growl; a deep, guttural sound of warning. Her eyes were turning yellow as well, that made Stiles realize this wasn’t one of their playful fights that she sometimes let him win. She was actually angry.

“Y/N?”

Stiles found himself squirming in place as his friend let out another growl, this one longer and lower. The vibrations of the sound send shivers down his back. He wasn’t scared. Even in that wild, feral state, eyes glowing, more wolf-like than human, Stiles knew she wouldn’t hurt him. But he realized just how much being pinned down and at her mercy turned him on.

He read somewhere that there was a strong correlation between feelings of fear and arousal in men, specifically. But reading about it and experiencing it were two different things. The girl leaned in closer to his neck and inhaled deeply, earning a stifled whimper from Stiles. His mind filled with images of her biting him and it scared him how much he wanted it. He’s been fantasizing about it ever since that party.

“You smell nice,” she whispered.

Her voice didn’t sound like her. It made Stiles wonder just how much of Y/N was doing all of this and how much of it was the animal spirit inhabiting her body. Do she-wolves find scrawny boys attractive? He didn’t have a lot of meat on him for an animal to chew on, but then again dogs loving bones was a stereotype as old as time.

“I – thanks?”

Forming sentences was hard when all of Stiles mental capacity was being used to think about things that would keep his dick from betraying him.

The boy heard another inhale and he realized Y/N was trying to take deep breaths in order to calm herself, the way he taught her how to do a while back. Turns out panic attacks and werewolf transformations weren’t that different.

“It’s not fair,” he heard her mumble in between deep breaths.

Then she came to her senses and jumped off Stiles with the speed of a cheetah. She honestly looked at him like she had no idea how they ended up in that position, like a woman waking up from a dream.

“Sorry, full moon and all that,” she fake laughed. “It got me on edge.”

But there was no full moon that night.

To this day Stiles had no idea what came over Y/N in that moment. If it was anger or arousal or something else entirely. He wondered again if this ‘mark’ Peter was talking about had anything to do with it. He was going to ask him as such before the man talked first.

“You sick individual,” he hissed, throwing him an amused look.

Stiles figured out that because of his previous question and the way he reacted physically to that memory, Peter could piece together that the boy was turned on thinking about Y/N attacking him.

“I’m not proud of it,” Stiles defended himself. “Like you have any room to judge,” he then added under his breath.

Thankfully Peter kept his words and let him go, not before giving him one last warning about the dangers of his relationship with Scott’s cousin. Yeah, right, like he was gonna stop talking to his dream girl at the advice of a crazy person.

Y/N found Stiles driving back to the hospital to check on Lydia and all but threw herself in front of the car. He didn’t even have time to pull over before she tried to get in. He had to stop in the middle of the road. She pulled on the car’s door with so much force Stiles was worried she was trying to rip it from its hinges.

“Slow down, I could’ve hit you–”

“Are you alright? I’ve been looking for you everywhere but you were so hard to find with this new cologne you’re wearing.”

There was no mistaking the worry in the girl’s eyes and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t like how closely she was checking him for scrapes and bruises. Her eyes darted towards the shoulder Peter grabbed, taking in the tattered dress shirt and blood stain.

“You should go to the hospital. If a werewolf scratch is deep enough it can turn you, you know.”

“It’s barely a scrape, I’ll be fine.”

His words seemed to burn her; or maybe it was the icy tone they were delivered in. Either way, Stiles has never talked to Y/N that way before. Maybe he was just tired from a night of being in constant danger and the adrenaline was finally wearing off. Or he was mad about finding about some kind of secret Y/N’s been keeping from him this whole time. Something huge that was going to change the nature of their relationship forever and if he was being honest… Stiles wished he hadn’t uncovered it. He was more mad at Peter for telling him.

“We should go to the hospital anyway to check on Lydia.”

“Yeah, I was on my way there before you tried to kill yourself by jumping on my windshield.”

Then Y/N did something unexpected. She leaned in even closer to Stiles, undoing a few buttons of his shirt to slide her hand underneath it. The stabbing pain in his shoulder lessened considerably as black ichor made its way up the girl’s veins. Stiles ungratefully pushed her hand away.

“Will you quit it? I’m not your pet!” he snapped.

He expected her to look shocked that he found out, maybe try to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about or deny it all together. She just flinched at his harsh tone and stayed quiet. He was going to say something else, but the sound of his voice was drowned by a car honking behind them to get going. They were still in the middle of the road.

“Seatbelt,” he murmured reaching for the gearshift stick, which was very close to the girl’s uncovered leg.

Y/N’s dress had hiked up in her hurry to get to Stiles and make sure he was ok, the skin that was visible had obvious goosebumps. He wondered if she was cold. It was a freezing night, especially for someone in a dress but being a werewolf tended to keep the girl warm even in harsh conditions. Maybe for a second it looked like he was reaching for her bare thigh and the prospect excited her.

Stiles tried his best to pay attention to the road and not the gorgeous girl in the seat next to him. Or his unhealthy unrealistic fantasies.

“What did Peter mean when he said I was your pet?”

“It means I marked you as mine. Other werewolves can smell me on you and they know you’re under my protection.”

“Oh so you did the werewolf equivalent of dogs peeing on their property.”

Stiles was putting in a lot of effort to keep from actually yelling. He was angry but he didn’t want to take it out on Y/N like that. The thought of hurting her, even as he was hurting because of her, made him sick to his stomach.

“It’s not pet meaning ‘animal companion’, more like it’s original definition. Meaning favorite.”

Y/N sounded like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t. It didn’t help that she crossed her arms defensively while saying that.

Stiles wished he could’ve stopped the warmth spreading through his chest at her words. He was her favorite. She marked him as her dearest of all the humans, the one she wanted to protect. He was mad as all hell at her, yet something in him stirred at the thought.

“I’m flattered but you could’ve asked first.”

“I couldn’t tell you I was a werewolf! You would’ve thought I was mental!”

“Why didn’t you tell me anything about it since? Why did I have to learn about it from Peter of all people?”

“I asked Deaton to look into a way of lifting the mark. He said he was close to finding one.”

“Oh, so you were just going to undo it and never speak about, keep me in the dark. I’ll be marked then unmarked and none the wiser about it.”

“Why does it matter to you?” Y/N snapped. “You can still marry Lydia and have her babies! It just means most werewolves will stay away from you.”

It seemed she finally realized her dress situation because she pulled on it aggressively, covering as much of her legs as possible. It was almost as if she was trying to put some barrier between her and Stiles.

“If you worry that Peter turned her,” she took a deep breath. “You dad called to ask about you. Apparently Lydia is at the hospital all scratched up and we both know it wasn’t a mountain lion attack,” she looked away before saying the last part. “She’ll survive, she’s strong. And I’ll undo the mark as soon as possible so you two can live happily ever after.”

The anger bubbling inside Stiles chest was finally bursting.

“You think I’m pissed at you because werewolf Lydia would be jealous of us?! What about the fact that you made a huge decision that affected me without asking? Or the fact that I’ve been going crazy for the past months thinking something was wrong with me… turns out you did something to me. You made me think I was crazy.”

“Stiles, you can’t feel the mark – only I can. It’s a werewolf thing. You wouldn’t even know you were marked if it weren’t for Peter.”

“Yeah, because you intended to keep me in the dark. Like I’m a dog you told you were taking to the park only to stop at the vet’s office. Like you know what’s best for me and can’t even bother to ask before you act. Forget about Lydia or any other girl. I’m pissed because you treated me like an idiot!”

“I was looking out for you!”

The car screeched to a stop in the hospital’s parking lot. Stiles’ parking was a lot more jerky than it usually was, probably having to do with his shaking hands on the wheel and breaking heart in his chest.

He didn’t say another word as they walked through the hospital and found Lydia laying on her hospital bed, covered in bloody scratches. Stiles was beginning to feel guilt over his earlier remark that he didn’t care about Lydia. Sure, he wasn’t into her anymore, but he didn’t want her to die. Especially not because Peter only attacked her to get to him.

They both stood there in silence watching her, almost waiting for her to sprout fur.

“How long did it take for you? The turning?”

Y/N’s face was an impenetrable mask when she said:

“I don’t know, I got drunk at a party and when I woke up… I was naked in the woods with no scratches or bites. Ever since then I’ve been turning every full moon.”

Stiles never really thought to ask Y/N about her turning and he got the feeling she was hiding something even now. Despite their relationship hanging on by a thread she was still lying to him.

“So… pretty fast.”

Their werewolf lessons got cut short by Melissa walking by them then stopping when she noticed Stiles was also hurt. He felt her hand on his shoulder, turning him around to examine the wound.

“Were you two together when Lydia got attacked?”

Stiles tried to shake off Melissa’s hand. What was up with everybody touching him without a warning tonight?

“Could you take a look at him?” Y/N asked unprompted. “He won’t let me help. Strap him to the hospital bed if you have to.

Stiles got dragged into the nearest hospital room and shoved into a bed. The room was empty and dark until Melissa turned on the lights. Unlike the place they were holding Lydia in, this room had no windows into the hallway, no way for people to see what was going on. The woman motioned for Stiles to take off his shirt and he obliged, too tired to argue with anyone anymore. Now that he’s seen Lydia was in good hands and there was nothing else for him to do, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

He let out a sharp hiss as Melissa bandaged his wounds, small part of him wished that Y/N was there with him so she could hold his hand and take some of the pain away. He settled for grabbing the underside of the hospital bed with so much force the tips of his fingers were turning white.

“How did this happen?” the woman asked.

Her voice was soothing, her tone maternal. She was honestly worried about Stiles and he had enough lying for night. He just looked at her without saying a word, pleading and tired eyes meeting hers as she let out a sigh.

“Care to tell me about what happened with Y/N, then?”

He’d rather tell her all about werewolves, alphas and hunters before he tells her about the situation with Y/N.

“You weren’t even looking at her when she was talking. Stiles, you're always looking at her. What happened?”

Was it true that Stiles’ eyes always found Y/N in a crowd like a compass’ needle always finds north? Yes. But it bothered him that Melissa was calling him out on it. She was probably one of the first people to notice his crush on her all the way back when they were little kids. Talking about it now felt like she was kicking him while he was down.

“People grow up and grow apart, I guess.” Stiles murmured.

“Overnight?”

“What is this? An interrogation? Just tell me when I’m free to go, I had a long night.”

He felt awful for talking to Melissa like that. He made a note to apologize the next day. Maybe drop by the hospital with two flower bouquets, one for her and one for Lydia – who hopefully wasn’t going to be fully healed and running through the woods tomorrow. Not wanting your friend who was brutally attack to heal too quickly sounds like a horrible thing, but he knew Lydia would prefer that over being turned into a werewolf. He knew how horrible the transformation and losing of your autonomy was from Scott and Y/N. Besides, Lydia would hate smelling like dog.

“Whatever happened between you two, you should figure it out. She’s going through a lot right now, losing you would hit her pretty hard.”

“What do you mean ‘she’s going through a lot’?”

“She’s been having nightmares ever since she got to Beacon Hills. She’d kill me for telling you but… sometimes she wakes up screaming your name.”

“I thought it was a one time thing–“

The creak of the door opening interrupted Stiles mid-sentence. Y/N walked into the room, more meek than he’d ever seen her in his life, her gaze casted down and her posture slumped.

“Stiles, can we talk for a moment? Alone?”

If she was close by in the hallway, she probably heard every word. She looked like she came in to apologize but she most likely wanted to stop her aunt from spilling all her secrets. Especially since after Melissa left the room, Y/N just stood there in silence as Stiles stared at her expectantly.

He couldn’t stay mad at her, not when she looked so sad and apologetic, playing with her hands as she was trying to find her words. Especially not when she looked so pretty with loose glitter particles on her face.

Stiles let out a groan of frustration as he slammed his back on the hospital bed, slipping one hand under his head because there were no pillows. He felt a cool breeze on his abdomen as his shirt rode up slightly. He decided solemnly against looking back at Y/N to check her reaction.

“Are you still having nightmares?”

“It wasn’t her place to tell you that,” she murmured.

“Well, it would be nice to learn something about you from you for once. Not Scott or Melissa or fucking Peter. But you won’t let me in, Y/N. What am I supposed to do?”

It took him all of ten seconds to cave and finally look at her. She seemed to be holding back tears.

“Respect the distance I’m intentionally putting between us.”

“And the mark? Showing up at my place in the middle on the night?” Stiles shot up from his resting position so fast he felt dizzy. “Was that you putting distance between us? Is that what you were doing?”

“That night I made a decision against my better judgment. It won’t happen again.”

It bothered Stiles how calm and collected she still sounded. It really looked like he was the only one going through emotional turmoil. It only made him want to scream at her some more, poke and prod until she finally snapped. Show him that she cared. That he didn’t imagine all of those moments between them, the looks, the lingering touches, the tension. Was she really going to ask him to the dance or did he just rewrite history in his head?

“You went behind my back, you played me for a fool, you lied to me! I knew you’ve been hiding something this whole time and I looked the other way because I’m a sucker for you!”

Fuck keeping distance. Stiles took a few steps towards Y/N trying to get a better look at her. To see if her pupils dilate or her posture shifts in a way that proves to him that this whole argument is eating at her like it’s eating at him.

“You haven’t even apologized.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I truly am. I shouldn’t have staked my claim on you; you’re not mine.

“But I could be.”

There is was. The most pathetic Stiles had ever felt. Worse than hiding in a bathroom stall to cry, worse than trying to impress a girl who didn’t even know his name, worse than being called out on his deepest insecurities by a teacher. Y/N wronged him and here he is groveling at her feet. Still wanting nothing more than to belong to her.

“It can’t just be me. You keep me at arms’ length to protect me but you still seek me out. You come to my place, you sit at my table at lunch, you invite me to dance with you at the formal. You can’t stay away from me either. Just admit there’s something there.”

Her eyes flash gold. Good. At least he’d getting some reaction. A few more steps and he’s close enough to hear her leveled breathing and see her nostrils flare.

“Are you angry at me or at yourself?” he asked.

Another tentative step and Y/N pushes Stiles away so violently he almost falls on his ass, then she stomps to the opposite end of the room, as far away from him as she can go. It takes him a second to fully regain balance, turning around to look back at her in disbelief.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You reek of her,” she growls. “Take it off.”

It takes Stiles a second to comprehend what she said and then several seconds to parse the meaning of her words. His clothes smell like Lydia.

“What? My shirt?”

To Stiles utter shock and embarrassment, the girl nodded. She looked pissed as all hell and equally hot. What was it about this girl looking borderline feral that made Stiles so horny?

He obliged her request and started unbuttoning his shirt under her intense gaze; one by one, moving slowly as he was trying to bid himself some time to think. What was he doing? Apparently… taking his clothes off in a public place where anyone could walk in at any moment.

Clearly he had lost his mind. What if Melissa walked in? He’d never be allowed to see Y/N or Scott ever again. Then she’d tell his father and he’ll arrest Stiles because public indecency is illegal. Then he’ll be grounded for the rest of his life, he’ll never leave the house. Which, honestly, was going to happen anyway because then world would get around that Stiles was a pervert who liked to get naked in public and everyone would hate him. He won’t leave the house out of shame.

A deep growl from Y/N pulled Stiles out of his typical spiraling. This one wasn’t angry like the last one, it sounded more wanting. Hungry.

Consequences be damned.

“What are you gonna do to me once this is off?”

Stiles didn’t intend for his question to sound so suggestive, he honestly needed answers. Was she really unable to talk to him because she could smell Lydia on him? Or was that just an excuse to get him to take his clothes off?

“I’m still making up my mind.”

It seemed they were both at an impasse. Stiles was wondering if it was too late to play this off as a joke and button hit shirt back up. No matter how much he wanted to see this play out he knew it was a mistake, the kind you can never truly fix. They were both too mad at each other and too horny to really care. This kind of combination could only spell disaster.

It was clear that Y/N was going through a similar thought process on her end. Should they cross this invisible line?

“Did you kiss her?”

He knew answering yes would send her into a blind jealous rage. She’d either fuck him or kill him or both. If he said no, on the other hand, it would dissuade some of that jealousy. It would give them both an excuse to step away and calm down. Crisis averted.

“What if I did?” Stiles voice was firm in spite of his nerves. “You said it yourself, I’m not yours. You have no claim over me. I can kiss as many girls as I want – “

Fucking finally.

Y/N stopped Stiles from talking with a kiss. A searing hot, long awaited, heart shattering sort of kiss. The kind of kiss you can only experience once in your life.

Stiles’ shirt was still on, although unbuttoned, which wasn’t good enough for Y/N. She took it upon herself to remove it, not stopping the kiss for one second. They both have waited for that kiss for so long and neither was going to stop unless the building was on fire or one of them needed to breathe. When Stiles’ shaky hands were taking too long to fumble out of his sleeves, he heard a loud ripping noise and suddenly both his hands were free of the material.

She ripped his shirt off.

Hot.

Stiles would worry about what he was gonna say to Melissa when he comes out of this room topless if he could think – which he can’t because Y/N was kissing him more and more hungrily, like she was trying to take something from him. As if there was anything of Stiles’ that he wouldn’t give her willingly.

Y/N pushed Stiles around with ease and he found himself stumbling backwards into one of the hospital beds, with the girl straddling him. His hands found their way on her thighs, trying to press her harder against his own body. How much harder would he need to press for their bodies to weld together and become one? Because nothing short of that would feel like enough.

Stiles let out a sound of protest as Y/N’s mouth left his, only to have to stifle a moan as she started kissing down his neck instead. Flashbacks of the party and the similar scenario he found himself in flooded his mind.

Y/N hugging him to avoid another guy who was hitting on her. “Men are like wolves that way, they respect each other’s territories.” The game of truth or dare. The feeling of Y/N’s teeth scraping down his skin.

It must have been the party. That’s when he got marked. He needs to ask her about this.

He looked up at her from this position, eyes half lidded. His mind was swirling with thoughts of his need for answers so he can fix his relationship with Y/N and his desire to throw all caution to the wind and let the woman have her way with him. It would feel so good to just let go. He couldn’t even be mad at her anymore, not when her hand was palming him through his pants.

He couldn’t think. He needed to think. He needed answers.

“Were you ever planning on telling me the truth?”

The girl froze in place for a few heartbeats then retracted her hand, which elicited a whimper from Stiles that was incongruous with the dignified image he was trying to project in that moment.

“Of course, once Deaton found a way out. I didn’t want to present you with a problem and no solution. I thought if we could solve it as soon as I brought it up it’d be easier to forgive me.”

She shifted her gaze from his eyes to the hospital’s crumpled bed sheets under them, picking up an imaginary piece of lint.

“If you’ll ever forgive me.”

“Why did you do it?”

“To keep you safe!”

The answer came so fast and so clear there was no doubt in Stiles mind that Y/N was being sincere in that moment. Maybe the first time she’d ever been truly honest with him since she came to Beacon Hills.

“That night at the party there were other wolves there. That girl, Cora, and another one I couldn’t see, but I could smell him. You didn’t even know about werewolves yet– or I thought you didn’t know. I had to do something to keep you safe!” she let her head fall on his shoulder as she murmured the next part. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you and I could have prevented it.”

She stood there in silence for a moment, letting out a defeated sigh. Stiles had the feeling she wasn’t done explaining herself so he fought the urge to interrupt with his own commentary. When she looked back up at his she seemed exhausted and defeated.

“Ever since I got turned I’ve been having these nightmares of my loved ones getting attacked by monsters. Finding out that creatures that go bump in the night are real messes you up like nothing else. People move around the words thinking they’re safe, they have no idea what’s out there. And I can’t even warn them, tell them to carry wolfsbane, because they’ll throw me in the loony bin.”

She started tracing Stiles face with her knuckles, her eyes glistening like they were holding back tears. He leaned into her touch like a child starved for affection.

“When I came back here, a lot of my nightmares started being about you. You getting mauled by a giant hulking beast and me finding you too late. I tried so hard to be around you all the time, knowing it will break my heart, just so I could make sure that dream won’t become reality. I knew I was reawakening old feelings and… developing new ones. I should’ve kept some distance but I needed to make sure you were safe. I thought the mark was a way to protect you from afar.”

Tears were pricking the corners of her eyes. Stiles was thinking of a way to provide some comfort to Y/N without interrupting her. This was the most information he was going to get from the girl who usually kept her heart in a box inside a safe inside a cage. He grabbed her hand and kissed it with the gentleness you’d show a skittish animal. He then gave her a nod of encouragement to continue.

“One night it got so bad I had to see you and make sure you were fine. It felt so real and I was so worried about you I couldn’t sleep. So I snuck out to check on you, but you woke up. Guess werewolves aren’t known for being stealthy.”

Memories of finding Y/N sneaking into his room, thinking it was all a dream. Her having a nightmare. Finding out she’s a werewolf.

“I should’ve told you that very night, I should’ve been honest with you. But I lied and you let me. You made it so easy.”

He trusted her. Wholeheartedly he trusted that she would never so something to hurt him. Whatever she was hiding was her business. He never really questioned it beyond that. At the end of the day, she was just trying to make sure he doesn’t become dog food.

“You walked all that way in the middle of the night to check on me because of a dream?”

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips in spite of the tears now falling down her face. Stiles wiped one away, his hand still lingering on her cheek.

“There are very few things I wouldn’t do for you, Stiles.”

“I’m begging to see it now. Can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”

He gingerly led her face closer to his and they kissed once again. This kiss was nothing like the fiery, passionate make-out from a few moments ago that felt like an eternity away. It was slow and cautious, like any sudden movement would turn the girl to sand in his arms and she’d slip right through his fingers. There was a certain reverence in this kiss as well, every movement of Stiles’ lips felt like a prayer. As their mouths parted some other feeling downed on him. Finality.

“Why does this feel like a goodbye kiss?”

“Because it has to be,” Y/N whispered as she touched her forehead to his.

“But you love me, too.”

Stiles was aware how childish and desperate he came across but he didn’t care. It was his turn to try and fail at holding back tears. What he assumed was a love confession was turning into a good bye speech.

“Which is why I have to do this. Lydia might turn tonight, but there will be others for you. You’ll move out of here and start college and become a cool FBI agent. The ladies at Quantico will be fighting over you–”

“I don’t want that! And you don’t want that either. Five minutes ago you were going mad with jealousy cause I might have kissed another girl, what happened to that?”

Stiles felt the girl’s weight lessening on top of him as she tried to lift herself up. He instinctively grabbed the fabric of her dress, holding onto it with a desperation that would be pathetic if this was anybody else. She sat back down.

She couldn’t leave him like that, not after what she just said.

“I was being selfish, Stiles. I can’t have you to myself and I hate the thought of you being with somebody else. If I loved you more I’d put your happiness above mine. If I loved you less it’d be easier to let you go. So we’ve been stuck in this never ending loop of pushing and pulling and neither of us gets to be happy. I have to end this.”

“Why can’t I just be yours? Why do you want me to move on with someone else?”

“I’m not right for you.”

Another attempt to get up and Stiles finally relented, his grip lessening on the girl’s clothes. He watched her try to fix herself like she was trying to hide any signs Stiles might have left on her. She pulled on her dress and wiped off her smeared lipgloss. It felt like she was erasing him.

“You might be the only one that’s right for me.”

“You know, a while after sleeping over to your place my nightmare changed. I’d go looking for you and find you in your own room gutted, blood splattered everywhere, but when I looked up from you there was this mirror and I’d see myself. My eyes are yellow and I’m big and angry and dripping blood. I did this to you. I was so obsessed with protecting you from other werewolves I didn’t realize I was the threat you needed protection from.”

“You’d never hurt me.”

“I might. I’m not like Scott, you know. He’s mister perfect, he found a way to put a muzzle on it before doing any damage. I’m so angry all the time and it’s exhausting. Ruined my reputation forever back home, everyone knows me as the weird girl who growls. I don’t have any self-control. I bit a teacher – for fuck’s sake!”

“You’re more than the wolf, Bea. You’re more than the compilation of your worst moments that plays in your head every night before bed. You’re kind and sweet and attentive. You protected me from bullies and listened to me when no one else did. You noticed I was different from the other kids and never made me feel bad about it. You’re different and you can learn to live with it.”

“I wish I had as much trust in me as you do.”

Stiles took a deep breath before saying the next thing. He started feeling like he needed to choose his words very carefully, like whatever he’ll say next determines if Y/N will leave or stay. And maybe it will.

“Wanna know the moment I started feeling different about you?”

He didn’t say love. He was afraid the words love would scare her away the same way an elephant gets scared of a mouse.

“When I bent Jackson over that table?”

She laughed at the memory. God. He loved hearing her laugh.

“Remember when we were like ten and we got invited to Isaac Lahey’s birthday party?”

“You got invited,” Y/N corrected. “I got dragged along because Melissa said it was rude for you to go and leave me home.”

“True. But you had fun! You found some big bug in Isaac’s yard and started chasing other kids around with it. Everyone ran inside screaming and when you thought you were alone you gently laid the bug down on a leaf. And you talked to it with the tenderness people reserve for children or beloved pets but it was just a bug. You called it your little friend,” Stiles pause to look for Y/N’s eyes. “Because this is who you are. You act mean and tough, you scare everyone away to protect yourself and you say it’s for their own good. And when you think nobody is looking you’re soft and patient and sweet. But I was looking, Bea. I always pay special attention to you, notice the things nobody else does. So maybe that’s why your whole ‘stay away from me, I’m dangerous’ act doesn’t phase me. Because I know you wouldn’t even hurt a bug.”

Y/N snarled and Stiles found himself once again pinned on the hospital bed, this time with her sitting on his side rather than on top of him. She wrapped one hand around his throat and he could feel her claws growing. She wasn’t putting any pressure, just tenderly resting it there like a threat. He rolled his eyes.

“What? You’re gonna hurt me now? Do it, then.”

Nothing she could do now would hurt more than telling him she loved him then leaving.

Her other clawed hand made its way down his chest and abdomen, digging in just enough to leave shallow white scratch marks. She growled again but it sounded fake. It was nothing like the deep guttural noises she made earlier. This time she reminded Stiles of a cat hissing and arching its back in order to look bigger than it was. She was scared of this moment of pure honesty and she was trying to scare Stiles too. Trying to prove that he’s like everybody else and that he’d run away screaming.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he reassured her.

“Your heart’s beating awfully fast for someone who’s not afraid.”

“You know why.”

Her hand reached the top of his pants, undoing the one button with surprising dexterity for something so animal. She stopped and stared at Stiles’ chest, rising and falling with labored breaths, then at the grazes she left that were turning a light shade of pink. Her eyes finally fell on his erection, which was still covered by his boxers. Her hand was hovering above it.

Why was she hesitating? What could still possibly hold her back after he bared his heart for her?

“Don’t stop,” he whispered so softly no human could’ve heard it.

He wasn’t fully exposed exactly, but it was the most a girl has ever seen of him. Could she like what she was seeing? With her now glowing golden eyes Stiles couldn’t really read her expression, something between an adoring lover and a hungry predator. He really needed her to say something, anything.

“Have you made up your mind yet? On what you’re going to do to me?”

Stiles bucked his hips upwards to meet the girl’s hand and the gesture shocked her. She probably expected him to flinch, pull away from her. What more could he possibly to do prove to her that he’s not going anywhere? That he loves the werewolf as much as he loves the girl?

She snuck her hand underneath the band of his boxers with movement so gentle he barely felt it, then she pulled the underwear lower, exposing his most private parts. He should feel his self-consciousness deepen but instead it lifted like a fog. He couldn’t be self-conscious right now, not with Y/N looking at him like that. Like she couldn’t believe she finally had him. Like he was the Christmas gift she’d been begging her parents for since June. He never thought someone would look at him this way, much less his very first love.

She retracted her claws, or maybe they retracted on their own (he wasn’t sure how that worked). She seemed much more calm and confident, like she’d finally understood that Stiles wasn’t going anywhere. Like that gesture of meeting her halfway made everything click in place.

She began kissing down his chest, right on top of the little scratches, going lower and lower, making Stiles dizzy with the anticipation of feeling her lips reach his–

“Fuck,” he moaned as Y/N placed an open mouthed kiss on the tip of his dick.

“Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to hold back much longer.”

A few more kisses down and up his length and Stiles was already panting like a dog.

“Promise?” was all he could say in the moment because words are hard when all the blood that should be in your brain is in your dick.

Y/N looked up at him with puppy-like curiosity, head tilted slightly to the side.

“I mean you don’t have to hold back. It kind of… turns me on when you’re aggressive.”

It was the night of unbridled honesty, right? If he wanted Y/N to be completely honest with him, he had to share some embarrassing truths about himself, too. Maybe she won’t think him a freak for getting hard every time he heard her growl. Maybe she’ll think it’s… endearing.

“But it’s your first time,” she pauses talking to lick a thin strip up his length. “And I wanted to be gentle with you.”

“Keep saying romantic stuff like that and you’ll never get rid of me,” Stiles echoed her words from earlier.

He felt the weight on top of him shift as Y/N climbed back up to give him a kiss on the lips. If their first kiss was an impulsive, heated mess and the second one was bitter-sweet, this third kiss was nothing short of perfect.

“I’m not getting rid of you. I’m all yours until you come to your senses and tell me to get lost.”

His. All his. No one has ever been his before. He cupped her face and kissed her again, deeper, needier.

“Promise you won’t leave me again and I promise I’ll never ask you to.”

“Promise,” she whispered. “Now make yourself comfortable and let me blow your mind.”

Stiles propped himself against the wall, leaving more space in the bed for Y/N to work her magic. And it must have been magic the way it felt. Her mouth was warm and soft and gentle, finding all the spots that made him whimper and squirm in his place.

He wasn’t sure if she was taking her time because she knew he wouldn’t last long or because she liked toying with him. Both could be true. She did seem fond of his habit of cursing under his breath every time she did something that sent a bolt of pleasure through him. She’d take him in her mouth and make this rumbling noise that sent vibrations through his cock until he almost lost it completely. Then she would pop him right out before he could reach the finish line. Then she’d go back to licking and kissing for a while. It felt amazing but it was also driving Stiles utterly mad. Like a champagne bottle about to explode.

“Please,” he found himself begging in a voice that was not quite his own. “Can I come, please?”

“Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?”

Stiles wished he could paint the wicked grin that formed on Y/N’s face as she watched him unravel and beg underneath her. He’d frame it and put it on his wall.

“It’s just…” he looked at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

The girl sauntered slowly over to the door in question (or maybe she was moving at a normal pace but every moment she was not on top of him felt infinitely longer). She grabbed another bed and quickly dragged it in front of the door with no effort on her part. Hot.

“There. Safe,” she placed her hands on her hips and looked at Stiles, who was barely keeping from shaking with the anticipation of being close to her again. “And since you’ve been so good for me so far, I think you deserve a reward.”

If Stiles was a dog his tails would be wagging uncontrollably and his tongue would be lolling out of his mouth.

I’ve been good. Reward. What reward? For me? She said I’ve been so good.

Before getting back in bed Y/N took off her underwear and placed it on a post at the foot of the bed, like an unraised flag. She climbed back on top of Stiles with the tact and grace of an apex predator.

“Do you want your reward now?” Stiles nodded. “We can do whatever you want, just ask,” Y/N whispered in his ear.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, hesitatingly placing one hand on the girl’s thigh.

“Thought you said you wanted to come.”

“You first, I want to make you feel good.”

He phrased it that way because he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make her come just yet. He heard it was pretty complicated and he had no idea what he was doing. Plus he was on the verge of exploding. Plus they were in a public place and didn’t exactly have all the time in the world.

He didn’t want to get her hopes up but he felt like an asshole for getting all the pleasure. She should get to feel good, too. And maybe one night when he’s home alone he’ll invite her over and he’ll get to know her body in great detail. And he’ll take his time to learn what feels good to her and what doesn’t, how to touch her and how to bring her to the edge. Right now he just wanted to touch her.

Without any additional words Y/N grabbed his hand and led it between her legs just like he used to dream about her doing.

“Holy fuck, you’re soaked.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud. It’s just that past a certain point of horniness whatever filter he has between his brain and his mouth simply stops working. And he was shocked. He didn’t expect her to feel so… ready for him without him doing anything really.

He started moving his hand up and down just to get an idea how she feels. She was soft and wet and running a finger over one particular spot made her shudder. He made a mental note.

“Is it ‘cause of me?”

He also wouldn’t normally ask that either but he couldn’t deny he was dying to know. Was there anything he did without knowing that turned Y/N on? Did sucking him off get her that wet? And was it really that much? It felt like a lot but he had no point of reference.

“What can I say? You do make the prettiest sounds when getting head.”

Did his pathetic whimpering and whining have that effect? Was that really all he needed to do to turn her on? Good. Cause he was generally a loud one. He normally has to shove his own face in a pillow while humping the mattress to avoid alerting the whole neighborhood.

For the past few months he’d been doing that exclusively while thinking about her and now here she was: on top of him, while his fingers felt around her sex. He really wanted to make her come. He wished he knew what he was doing.

He ended up rubbing circles around what he assumed was her clit, she seemed to react well every time he touched it, but especially to this. He was moving very slowly because she felt slippery and he didn’t want to do anything that hurt her on accident.

“You can put a finger in – or two,” she said burrowing her face in the crook of Stiles neck. He liked the feeling of that, the way they fit together.

Stiles’ hand went lower, lower than he expected honestly, to find Y/N’s vaginal entrance and slide a finger in ever so gently. She let out a rumble against his neck and he took it as a sign to continue. He gingerly moved in and out a few times before adding another finger, like he’d been told. He was good at following instructions when they came from her.

He heard her take in a deep breath and Stiles held his as he waited for a sign. Was she in pain?

“Does it feel good?” he asked tentatively. He would cross his fingers but, well, they were busy. “I can stop.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” the answer came quickly. “Your fingers feel so good, Stiles. So fucking good. You have no idea how many times I started at your hands and fantasize about how they might feel on me, inside me. I’ve always really liked your hands.”

Shit. If she kept praising him that way he was going to come without even being touched. How utterly embarrassing. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to stop, it felt too good hearing the words pouring from her lips.

“Now curls your fingers a little and find a rhythm. Whatever you do don’t break it.”

Stiles did as instructed, earning a few more moans from his partner. It felt so good knowing he was the one making her feel this way. He could get drunk on this feeling. This feeling of her. Her body on his, her breath on his neck, her voice in his ear, her enveloping him in every way. Every growl and whimper a small victory.

“If you keep going like that you’re gonna make me come.”

She took in another deep breath and Stiles realized she was breathing him in. He remembered the time she pinned him to the floor and said he smelled good. She liked his smell and the sounds he made. She loved him maybe as much as he loved her and it seemed too good to be true. Too precious to speak into existence and risk losing.

Stiles was locked in trying to keep a consistent rhythm while whispering sweet things that passed through his mind as Y/N was getting increasingly lost in her pleasure in his arms. You’re so beautiful. I love you. I’m all yours. All the things he’d been thinking about her and couldn’t tell for fear of scaring her away.

All the while he was worried that he might not be able to tell when she reached her orgasm. He had been stupid. There was no mistaking what was happening as Y/N’s breath became heavier and heavier, her muscles went rigid and then she bit Stiles in an effort to keep herself from moaning too loud. Maybe intentionally or not, she bit him in the same spot she marked him at that party. Stiles remembered exactly how it felt, almost like going through that experience all over again. It took everything in him to keep that rhythm until the girl finally went slack against his body with a sigh.

His ego grew two sizes that very moment.

He assumed they were going to cuddle for a while and then find a way to get out of there without immediately getting interrogated by hospital personnel. Instead after catching her breath Y/N lined herself up with Stiles, rubbing her soaking wet pussy along his shaft, making him shudder.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

“Rewarding you, silly. Now lay back and keep quiet. And don’t move, I’m setting the pace here.”

Stiles nodded his head, unable to argue with her when she was bossing him around so effectively. At first he was a little worried she was going to take him in with no protection (he was not ready to be a father) but he realized quickly she was only rubbing against him. Outercourse. Sure. That was safer.

He wanted to put his hands on her hips, like what he imagined you’re supposed to do when a girl is riding you, but his fingers were still wet. His pants were nice and wiping against the hospital bed sheets felt disrespectful and so he was left with only one option. He put his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean.

“Hot,” Y/N breathed as she picked up the pace.

“It’s not gonna be much longer until I–“ Stiles chocked on a moan.

Y/N’s hand flew to cover his mouth so he doesn’t alert the whole hospital to what they were doing. The gesture actually turned him on even more. Coupled with the pulsing pain in his neck and the sweet feeling of friction Stiles had no chance to last. He felt his climax rise like a wave, break at the shore then retract back into the ocean over the course of what could have been a small eternity.

Y/N’s thigh squeezed him as hard as she could one last time before wrapping her arms around him and going limp as well. Stiles wished he could stay in that moment forever.

“I can help you sneak out the window with me, to avoid everyone, you know,” she whispered after a while.

She got up, off of him and Stiles wanted to cry in protest even though he knew they had to leave. He felt the exhaustion from earlier rear its ugly head. He was about to sleep for at least 12 hours. He wished he was able to just go to sleep there.

Y/N picked up Stiles’ discarded shirt, or what was left of it, and wiped herself clean with it, then carefully cleaned him up, too. He wanted to melt under her ministrations.

“You know, you lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“You’re an asshole,” he laughed.

“And you’re stuck with me.”

Before wither of them made it out the window Stiles wanted to say one more thing. Since this was the place where all the truth came out between them, it felt only fair to ask this one question here as well.

“Does that mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now?”

It felt even more childish out loud than in his head, but he needed to hear it. No more assuming you know how the other one feels. No more keeping secrets.

He half expected Y/N to laugh in his but she just grabbed him by the chin and pressed a kiss on his lips again. God. He’d never get used to that feeling. She let him go and nodded her head.

“Great. I’m gonna tell everyone at school. Hey, guys, this is my girlfriend, isn’t she great?”

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

Or so he hopes. He had to believe that they’ll stay together, that they can make it work because this was the happiest he felt since he could remember. No universe could be so cruel as to take that away from him.

a/n: it’s finally here. it took me nine months to make this, guys. other people make babies in that time. After almost a year of dragging my feet I finally finished it. I’ve worked on this so hard for so long and to be completely fair with you guys I’m not sure how I feel about it. I don’t think I’ve quite stuck the landing, but I’ve always found endings to be impossible. I like the infinite possibilities of an unfinished story. I wrote like half of this, then I took a few months off because it just wasn’t working for me. I reread it so many times i’ve gone cross-eyed. I came back to write it finally like last month and slowly but steadily I finished it. i only wrote the sex scene tonight. If you see any typos and stuff feel free to correct me, I can’t reread this fic anymore, it makes me sick to look at. I don’t know if I dislike it because it’s my own work or because I’ve reread it so much it sucked all the joy out of it or simply because it’s bad. Hope I didn’t disappoint everyone. Thank you to everybody who left a comment, everyone who reblogged. You guys are amazing and you keep me motivated. The thing I love about fandom the most is the community. It's the reason why I started posting fics instead of keeping them in my drafts. I wanted to give back <3

Everything in Stiles’ body hurt. Ever since Lydia’s party, Jackson has had it out for him and he’s been merciless on the lacrosse field. The boy considered giving up, since he wasn't even that good anyway. Y/N smacked him up the back of the head when she heard him float the idea around during lunch.

“You’re not letting that neanderthal bully you into quitting; you belong on the team just as much as he does.”

Stiles wanted to say that Jackson was captain of the team, actually co-captain, and he was a bench warmer. They were not even in the same stratosphere in terms of belonging to the team.

“Tell me if he gives you any more grief, I’ll take care of it.”

He laughed, but he knew the girl meant it.

Something about Y/N changed the night of the party, and Stiles was failing to grasp why – but she was fiercely protective over him, like a dog with a bone more than a normal girl with her friend. A guy made a snarky comment about Stiles’ jeep within earshot and she loudly yelled “no one cares what you think!” which made the guy turn red. The chemistry teacher made a joke about how he never pays attention and the boy could swear he heard Y/N growl at him. She offered to scratch his car in retaliation, but Stiles talked her out of it.

There were other ways she changed.

Like the way her hands kept finding their way to Stiles’ body. She would absent-mindedly put a hand on his back to gently guide him from one spot to another; she would squeeze his shoulder or his knee at random points in conversations, she’d jokingly pat his head like you do to a dog. And every single time Stiles had to pretend like her touches weren’t driving him closer and closer to the brink of madness.

It didn’t mean anything– not really. Stiles knew it because the girl never looked like she did it intentionally. Her hand seemed to wander around by itself and end up on him, like she wasn’t thinking about it. Like this was normal for them.

They would pass by each other on the hallways, she’d squeeze his arm and before he’d have time to react, she was gone. They would study together for something, her hand would end up on top of his for a few seconds, and just like that she'd take it away and say nothing. The first time it happened Stiles thought he imagined it.

And then there was only five minutes ago. Stiles, Scott, and Allison were having lunch in the cafeteria when Y/N walked up to them balancing her tray with one hand. She patted his head with the other, only to sit down as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Like she just said hello.

Stiles was gonna remember that instance later that night for sure because it went straight to his dick. Something in the condescending nature of the touch, or the way she looked down at him for a second before she sat awakened something in him that he wanted to put back to sleep. The moment kept repeating in his head like a broken record; the tips of Y/N’s fingers on his scalp, the way she looked at him so innocent, the not-so-innocent ideas that came to his mind.

Then she turned around towards Alison and Scott, making a funny face.

“You two are so cute you make me sick,” she teased and took a bite out of an apple.

Stiles stared at the lip gloss marks left on it and he’d never thought he could be jealous of a fruit. He wanted her to bite him again so much it hurt. There was this hunger in him that he’d never felt before. Sure, he’d been attracted to other women, he’d feel certain urges (all the time) but not like this. What he started to feel for Y/N was different than anything he felt before and – for as much as he tried to chalk it up to him growing desperate to lose his virginity– it terrified him.

Something in Y/N changed that night, but he was afraid to admit that something in him changed, too.

“So, what were we talking about?”

That’s when Scott filled her in with Stiles’ plans to give up lacrosse because Jackson had become unbearable, so she made her neanderthal comment.

“Tell me if he gives you any more grief, I’ll take care of it.”

“You take such good care of me,” Stiles joked as he shamelessly ogled her taking another bite of her apple.

Stiles wondered if her being so protective of him came out of a sense of possessiveness. Like “you can’t call him a dumbass and shove him around, only I get to do that”. And he wondered if it made him a bad person for liking the idea so much. What did it say about him that when a hot girl pushed him around it turned him on rather than turn him away?

“My ears are burning, I think some losers are talking about me.”

Stiles didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Jackson who said that, but he did it anyway. He was passing by their table, holding Lydia by the waist like a trophy. The sight made Stiles sick. As he passed the group by, he hit Stiles with his elbow in a pretend accident.

“Up your ass, co-captain of the lacrosse team,” Y/N said with a mouthful of apple.

“You seem to be awfully protective of a boyfriend who is all over my girlfriend like a dog in heat.”

Boyfriend. He called Stiles her boyfriend. Did people really think that they were dating or was Jackson just trying to make fun of Y/N by implying she’d date someone as uncool as him?

“He can do whatever the fuck he wants, I’m not jealous. You, on the other hand, reek of insecurity,” she scrunched up her nose like she could honestly smell something.

There was this scary truth about Y/N that she had a secret talent. She could tell right away your biggest insecurities and had no gripe with using them against you if she saw fit. She was slighting Jackson by calling him co-captain, knowing how much it bothered him. To Scott being co-captain of the lacrosse team was a step ahead in the sport, to Jackson it was a demotion. Because Scott used to be a bench warmer and Jackson used to be the sole captain of the team.

Even the fact that she didn’t correct Jackson when he called Stiles her boyfriend was intentional. This way she could make herself the carefree confident girlfriend that made Jackson look like an insecure mess by comparison.

Once she mentioned that she almost felt bad for him. How living your life constantly proving yourself to everyone including your parents, your teachers, your girlfriend, your friends, must be exhausting. She said that if he wasn’t such a thorn in Stiles’ side she would actually be nice to him. He couldn’t relate, he had always hated the motherfucker.

Stiles was just happy to never be at the receiving end of the girl’s wrath. If she knew his biggest insecurities, she seemed willing to take them to her grave.

“Sicing your girlfriend on me, Stilinski, really?”

Stiles couldn’t help but love the idea of Jackson running his mouth to the whole school and make everyone believe that he and Y/N were dating. As horrible and selfish that was, he hoped it would deter guys from asking her out. Because Stiles had a reoccurring nightmare where some hot jock asks her out in front of him and all he can do is watch helplessly as she says yes and he whisks her away never to be seen again. He knew it was only a matter of time before the other guys in school notice how hot and awesome she was.

“He’s not sicing anyone, I’m not a dog.”

Jackson could tell the way to get to Y/N was by picking on Stiles. For him it was a two for one sale on bullying. Make Stiles miserable, make Y/N miserable for free. It worked the other way around, too.

“No, you’re just a bitch-“

“Don’t talk to her that way!” Stiles found himself saying with more self-assurance than he believed he possessed.

“Oh you get between my girlfriend’s thighs and suddenly you think that makes you a man,” Jackson announced louder than he needed to. “Or did you finally lose your v-card and found a spine? Was it this one?” he asks pointing at Y/N. “Did she pity fuck you? Or did you have to pay her?”

In the blink of an eye Y/N shot up from her seat and grabbed Jackson so forcefully by the sides of his jacket he stumbled backwards a few steps.

“Take that back, you pig! Or so help me god we’ll both regret what I’m about to do.”

Jackson looked shocked for a fraction of a second, but then he regained his composure as he stared the girl in front of him down.

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” they boy said mockingly. “It sounds to me like your mouth is writing a check that your ass can’t cash.”

It took Stiles longer to process what he saw than it took for it to actually happen. Y/N, hands still on the lapels of Jackson’s leather jacket, grabbed him and thrust him towards the table where another group was eating. He hit the margin of the table stomach first, bending over in pain. The girl took advantage of this position and grabbed one of his arms, twisting it behind his back, still pushing him into the table. It looked brutal.

“That’s enough, Y/N, he got the point!” Scott yelled from behind her.

The girl was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf as Stiles placed a hand on her shoulder, and she visibly stiffened for a second as if she forgot he was even there. They had a silent conversation with their eyes, where Stiles hoped he communicated “thanks for having my back but don’t kill the poor guy”. Or something between those lines. Y/N looked genuinely shocked of the position she found herself in, like something possessed her a few moments ago and she was getting back to her senses.

She did finally let go and left the cafeteria in a hurry. Stiles and Scott ran after her, hearing Jackson yell behind them about how McCall’s cousin is a psycho.

“What were you thinking, Y/N? If word of this gets to the school or worse - the cops, your folks will send you away.”

Y/N seemed to be hyperventilating and Stiles almost yelled at Scott for scolding her in such a moment. She needed help and he was only making it worse.

“Hey, take a deep breath, Y/N. It’s fine.”

Stiles took in a deep breath as if to show the girl how to do it, she started mimicking him and after a few seconds she seemed to calm down.

“There, all better,” he gave the girl another pat on the shoulder hoping it would be a soothing gesture. “Why are you freaking out so much, Scott?”

“It’s cause I’m here on probation,” Y/N finally said. “I got in a few fights back at home and my folks wanted to send me to a boarding school. It took like a month of me, aunt Lisa and Scott begging them to change their minds. Coming here was the compromise, but they said one more stunt and off to boarding school I go.”

The girl closed her eyes and pulled her head back until it hit the wall she was backing against, then let herself slide down it until she felt the cold ground through her jeans. The coldness helped with the panic.

“It will be uniforms and not leaving the premise without a signed paper and eyes on me at all times and like three or more fucking roommates. They’d stick eight of us in a closet if we could fit. I’ll only be seeing mom and dad on holidays and I’ll probably have to wear an ankle monitor.”

The girl ran a hand through her hair in frustration and sighed.

“It was nice seeing you, Stiles. See you again when I’m thirty and my parents finally relent to let me out of house arrest?”

She gave him a crooked smile that seemed forced and Stiles swore to himself that he will do everything in his power to not let that happen.

Yes, he knew that Y/N was in Beacon Hills only temporarily, that she would leave either at the end of that school year or earlier and not dwell in there a moment longer. He told himself it didn’t really make a difference, whether she’d leave now or later; that maybe it would be better for him if she left now and ripped the band-aid instead of lingering and letting Stiles get more and more obsessed with her. He had no idea which prospect was worse. Y/N leaving now and him not getting to spend another moment soaking in her presence or her leaving later after he had already fallen head over heels. He just knew he couldn’t let her go, not yet – maybe not ever. He knew he’d do anything for just another moment with her, even if every moment sent him closer and closer to heartbreak.

“It might be good for me, you know. I have been awful lately. I scared my folks.”

“Oh, come on!” Stiles protested. “Jackson has been begging for a beating since he had that growing spurt in seventh grade. There just hasn’t been anyone brave enough to face him until you came around.”

He sat down cross-legged next to the girl and just because she looked so miserable he needed to say something to make her smile.

“Thanks for that, by the way, hero.”

And he very gently punched her shoulder, which seemed to do the trick. The corners of her mouth quirked lightly and suddenly Stiles was twelve again, still trying his hardest to get the same girl to smile, still feeling like king of the world for managing to do so.

“You’re not leaving, I just got you back.”

And he was too busy staring at Y/N with heart-shaped eyes to notice his friend rolling his eyes at them and murmuring something that sounded an awful lot like “you two make me sick”.

Stiles wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. Y/N was standing above him in his bedroom in the middle of the night. One second he was having a weird dream about werewolves and vampires, and the next one he’s awakened by a gentle hand shaking him by the shoulders.

“Y/N?” he asked tentatively, still unsure whether she was really there.

Why would she be there in the middle of the night? It didn’t make any sense. And she was in nothing but an oversized shirt and biker shorts? Definitely dreaming. Stiles had this exact scenario play out in his head more times than he cared to admit.

“What are you doing here?”

“Long story, I need a place to crash. Can I take the couch in the living room? Promise you won’t even know I’m there.”

She almost bolted for the door but Stiles managed to get up and out of bed in record time. He gently grabbed her by the arm as soon as he reached her, squeezing gently if only to make sure that she was real. It felt real. But then again so do a lot of dreams.

“How did you get in? The door is locked,” he whispered, managing to sound a bit less groggy.

“Your dad let me in.”

She wasn’t looking him in the eye. He let go of her arm and she hugged herself as if seeking comfort. Stiles has never seen her in this state, jumpy and defensive.

“Dad isn’t home tonight, he’s working a night shift. Why are you lying to me?”

He didn’t sound mad, mostly worried. Y/N’s eyes darted toward the window in Stiles' room and he had to do a double take. There was no way she snuck in through his window unless she brought a ladder with her. But then again, there was no way she got in through the front door either. Unless she lock-picked it or stole her dad’s keys.

“Can’t the interrogation wait until tomorrow morning? I’m really tired.”

Y/N’s eyes once again ping ponged between the window and Stiles only to ultimately fall on the floor. She didn’t look tired, quite the opposite, actually. She seemed alert and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Like a cornered prey animal. She was just as scared as one, too.

It hurt Stiles that she’d hide things from him like this and then lie to his face. He liked to think Y/N thought of him as a friend, someone she can confide in. But she looked like she really didn’t want to talk and Stiles was exhausted and couldn’t think straight. A sizeable part of him was still considering he might be dreaming.

“You can take my bed, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

He reached for the door of his bedroom but Y/N slammed it shut with a loud thud, boxing him in between her body and the door itself. Now it was looking more and more like his usual dreams.

Except if this was a dream they’d be feverishly making out by now, and she’d be desperately pulling on his clothes halfway between trying to pull him closer to her by his shirt and trying to tear it off him. Her hands would be wondering down from his chest to his abdomen and lower, just a little lower. And she’d be whispering the filthiest things in his ears, the kind of things that send a shiver down his body – but they weren’t. Y/N wasn’t looking at him with hunger but confusion and worry and hurt.

 So… totally not a dream.

“You can’t do that,” she murmured. “I come in your house in the middle of the night, wake you up from sleep, lie to you and you offer me your bed! You can’t do that,” she repeated louder.

Stiles was feeling guilty. Y/N sounded clearly in distress but he was too busy being horny to do anything about it.

“Are you mad at me cause I’m being nice?”

“Yes! Cause I’m not used to people being this nice to me. I don’t know how to react to nice.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and tried to recollect himself. That might be the saddest thing he’s heard someone say in a long time. And it was too late to have a whole conversation about it. And he knew that if he tried to talk to Y/N tomorrow about this she’d deny she had even said it.

He’s had his suspicions. The way she’d get aggressive every time he tried to pay her a compliment or do something nice. Her love language consisted of jeers, shoulder-punching and teasing comments.

But hearing her admitting it in a moment of vulnerability made him realize he didn’t know how to help her. He settled for being her punching bag. He’d throw a compliment her way and she’s throw a pillow in his face. And he was content with their dynamic. The one where he was clearly in love with her and she didn’t care because it was easy and familiar. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if she flirted back. If he could have her, then he could lose her. That thought terrified him.

What they had worked. He would openly admire her and she’d brush it off. He’d make sure to never take it too far and push her away. Compliment her just enough to flatter her without creeping her out. This way she stayed in his life, they remained friends and all was well. Anything else was unfamiliar territory and therefore dangerous.

“Well, get used to it. Cause I don’t know how to not be nice to you.”

She stepped away so Stiles finally opened the door and made his way to the living room so he could sleep on the couch. He came back a moment later to grab a spare blanket from his wardrobe to cover himself with. Y/N was on his bed, crouched in a corner with her head in her hands. He hated seeing her like this but didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t want to talk and he didn’t want to force her.

“Good night, Y/N.”

He half expected her to cuss him out just to prove a point about not accepting his niceness but she just raised her head and looked at him like she forgot in whose house she was in.

“Night.”

Stiles awoke again an hour later when he heard the snarls coming from his bedroom. And then Y/N screaming.

Maybe he was having a nightmare. Maybe the whole thing was a nightmare and he’ll wake up in his bed with Y/N nowhere in sight.

He feels like he’s running up the stairs in slow motion as he tries desperately to reach the door in time. Pulling in the door handle his mind catches up to him.

What is he doing? Jumping into danger like that? He can’t fight a werewolf, he can’t save Y/N. The only thing he could do is offer himself up as bait to buy her time to run away. Could she out run a werewolf? Could any normal human?

The boy looks at the bed. There was no werewolf in the room. Just a terrified Y/N who jumped half out of her skin when the door opened and hit the wall with a loud thud.

“Sorry, I thought I heard…”

His eyes slid from Y/N to the claw marks on his pillow then back to the girl. There was no werewolf in the room. Has there been a werewolf in the room? Then, suddenly as if a switch flipped in his brain– oh.

Ooohh.

“You’re the werewolf.”

That’s how she climbed through his window. That’s how she got here in the first place.

“That’s crazy,” Y/N said. “You’re crazy.”

But she was panicking, Stiles could hear it in her voice.

“You don’t have to lie, you know. Scott’s one, too. Did Derek do this to you?”

He was gonna kill him. He was gonna sneak into his old decrepit house while Derek was asleep, tie him with wolfs bane to whatever dog bed he slept in and set him on fire.

“Who’s Derek?”

As his eyes were getting used to the darkness in the bedroom Stiles started to see things better. The beads of sweat on Y/N’s forehead and the scared look in her eyes. He remembered the snarling and her screams earlier, the sound so well embedded in his memory he knew he won’t forget it any time soon. He started putting things together.

“You had a nightmare,” he arrived at the conclusion. “Are you okay?”

Her hands gripped the sheets she was covering herself with, which also had a few pieces torn here and there. Stiles could almost see the gears turning in her head, how she was willing herself to come up with a plausible lie but couldn’t and ultimately chose to relax her shoulders and shake her head defeated.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head one again. Stiles expected that answer. It would be a cold day in hell when Y/N decides to be vulnerable in front of anyone, let alone him. She projected this image of the cold, uncaring girl who will run you over with her car if it meant she’d avoid being late for class. The boy sometimes thought he was the only one who saw through her façade.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Another shake of her head, and that one surprised Stiles.

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. I’m just a little shaken, that’s all.”

She lied. Stiles was already getting quite good at telling that. Her hands, which she tried to relax on her lap, were trembling. Stiles still remembered the nightmares he had when he was dealing with his mother’s death. And on particularly bad nights he still had them, even after all these years. He remembered what his dad used to do.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

He grabbed his chair, the one he usually sat on at his desk, moved it closer to the bed and plopped down on it. His movements betrayed how tired he truly was. He rested his head on the top rail of the back post and wrapped his arms around it, trying to find a little comfort in an otherwise very uncomfortable chair.

“You shouldn’t have to sleep on that chair. I’d let you come in bed with me but I just don’t trust myself.”

Stiles also didn’t trust himself to get in bed with Y/N for non-werewolf related reasons. He almost made that joke but it felt inappropriate giving the gravity of the situation.

“You won’t hurt me,” Stiles said with full conviction.

“I might,” she whispered half drifting back to sleep.

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

A yawn and then Y/N dragged the bed sheets up to her neck as she made herself comfortable.

“Forget what I said earlier, go back to the couch. I’ll be fine.”

But Stiles stayed put on the chair and waited for her to fall asleep. And then not so long after, in between thinking how cute she looked asleep in his bed and that he’s a creep for thinking that, he also fell asleep.

Stiles woke up the next day around noon when his father knocked on his door. Before the boy could answer, his father let himself in, assessed the weird sleeping arrangement and made a questioning face. He raised his eyebrows and pointed towards Y/N with his chin as if to ask “what is she doing here?” Stiles just made a gesture to keep silent, putting his pointer finger above his lips.

He got out of the chair with great effort because everything hurt from his legs to his back and his neck. He heard a few loud snaps that surprised him when they didn’t wake up Y/N, especially with werewolf hearing. She must really be exhausted.

Joints still cracking, Stiles followed his father all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where two omelets were waiting for them.

“I made breakfast, I didn’t know we had company,” the man said, pulling out a third plate.

Breakfast at noon was something of a tradition in the Stilinski household. When Stiles didn’t have any school that day and his dad worked the previous night, they’d both sleep until noon and whoever woke up first made breakfast and they’d enjoy it together. On the one hand, Stiles loved this tradition; on the other, there really couldn’t be a worse time for this.

“Just be quiet, she was really tired last night and I don’t want to wake her up,” Stiles whispered as his dad got started on a third omelet.

He wasn’t being loud, per se, but Y/N had werewolf hearing so really the sound of someone breathing could probably wake her up. He was still processing that information. Y/N was a werewolf. Both his best friend and the girl he had a massive crush on were werewolves. Life couldn’t get any fucking weirder for him.

“Do I have to ask why Y/N is sleeping in your bed and you on the chair? If I had walked in on you sharing a bed, I would have jumped to some conclusions, but now I’m just confused. My best guess is that you said or did something moronic last night that made her kick you out of the bed,” he took a breath. “But I like to think I raised you better than that.”

Stiles took a big bite out of his food trying desperately to buy himself some time to come up with a story; one that made sense while omitting werewolves and not implying that he slept with Y/N. He couldn’t come up with anything so he settled for a half truth in the hope that his dad wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dad. I wasn’t being a moron. We were just having a sleepover, like old times.”

“Just the two of you? Without Scott?”

“He bailed on us for Allison so it was just us.”

Stiles was proud of the lie he came up with on the spot considering his brain was still half asleep. Probably after Y/N leaves he’ll just go right back into his bed and sleep the rest of the day off. Now to tie it all off with a neat little bow he had to smoothly change the subject without his dad noticing.

“Besides, if getting kicked out of bed makes you a moron… I seem to remember you spending a few nights on the couch.”

The man smiled like he remembered even his fights with his dead wife fondly. He probably missed fighting with her the same way Stiles missed telling her to mind her own business when she was being nosy. Losing someone really makes you so forgiving in hindsight.

“Yes, your mother liked her personal space when she was mad. But we always worked things out in the morning.”

The boy wondered what it was like. To love somebody so much that you’re willing to work things through, no matter what. To love them so much you’re willing to forgive and forget. And to be loved like that in return.

Stiles felt his dad's hand weighing on his shoulder as he gave him a serious look.

“Just be careful, son. She’s not the same girl you had a crush on as a little kid. We got her juvenile record and I haven’t read it yet but it’s a thick folder for a teenager.”

Stiles knew that already. That she got into fights, that the cops got involved at one point, she told him that. He also could extrapolate that her violent outbursts had something to do with her being a werewolf.

“Why sir, you flatter me,” a feminine voice came from the first floor.

Y/N made her way down the stairs with too much grace for somebody who just woke up. Stiles wondered how long she had been listening in. Has she heard the comparison his dad made between the relationship he had with his wife and theirs? Did she realize his dad assumed they were a couple and that Stiles didn’t get to correct him because she interrupted them?

“A girl’s gotta make her own fun in a small town, don’t you think?”

“Not too much fun, though. I’d rather spend time with you here than at the station.”

Mr. Stilinski tried to hide his embarrassment from being caught talking about someone behind their back with a cough and poured the omelet on the girl’s plate, inviting her to eat with a gesture. She scarfed it down so fast Stiles was genuinely afraid she’d choke.

“Careful,” she said between huge bites. “You might get sick of me coming over.”

She wiped her mouth and poured herself a glass of water like she’s been at this house a million times. And Stiles remembers her coming over all the time with Scott but it’s been so long since then, he assumed she’d forgotten all about it. Instead, she was moving about like she owned the place.

A warm feeling enveloped him, a stupid-stupid thought was racing through his mind and he realized he’d better lock it up and throw away the key before it got dangerous. He liked seeing Y/N in her pajamas waltzing about his house like it was hers, bantering with his dad and having breakfast together. Spending time together like they were family. There was a certain domesticity to this picture that made him yearn for a type of life he could never have.

Thinking Y/N looked hot in the tank top she wore to PE and thinking she looked comfy in her pajamas in his own bed were two completely different things. One was normal, he thought the same things about other girls. The second one was dangerous. Because she would leave, go back home and he would be stuck here probably for eternity and with his heart broken.

Ten seconds. He’d allow himself ten seconds of delusion before forcing himself back on earth, pushing all thoughts of domesticity and Y/N away forever.

Ten. She looked cute in her oversized shirt and biker shorts. He wondered if those were her usual pajamas and she just came here prepared to sleep over.

Nine. Come to think of it, he never got an answer as to what she was doing here.

Eight. She stole a piece of bell pepper from his plate and ate it just as quickly, grinning like she pulled a big heist.

Seven. He could get used to having her around, waking up next to her, even if he has to sleep in that damned chair forever.

Six. He could wake up earlier, make her breakfast. He wondered what her favorite foods were.

Five. She’d probably loudly complain about his cooking but still eat all of it and give him a kiss on the cheek as thanks.

Four. They could have lazy morning on the living room couch where they could watch movies and just cuddle.

Three. They could do laundry together, file taxes, all the mundane boring activities. Together.

Two. Was she a night shower person or a morning shower person? Would they have a dog or a cat?

One. Would they have children? Would they be werewolves?

Oh. No.

Stiles heard something similar to a record scratch, which he was pretty sure existed only in his imagination.

Where did that last thought come from?

He was so utterly fucked.

“What are you thinking about?” Y/N poked him in the shoulder.

“The usual, word domination, is a hot dog a sandwich?”

“Avoiding the question, bet you think you’re so clever,” she poked him again, this time on his temple. “And it is…. A sandwich, that is.”

“But a sandwich has two pieces of bread, a hot dog only has one.”

“It’s an open sandwich, duh.”

She rolled her eyes like it was so obvious and Stiles found himself looking forward to having a thousand nonsensical debates with her in the future.

No. Stop it. Time’s up.

The sound of his father’s plate dropping into the sink forcefully ripped Stiles away from falling even more in agonizing love with his friend. That’s what this was – love. It stopped being a crush maybe a long time ago, maybe that morning. Stiles had no idea when but at some point in his life his silly crush has morphed and calcified into love and there was no going back.

“Thank you for the food, Mr. Stilinski. It was great!”

“My pleasure, it’s nice when somebody appreciates my cooking.” He gave his son a pointed look. “I’ll leave you two alone and go back to my room. It was nice finally seeing you, Y/N. Promise me you’ll stay out of trouble.”

“Is the promise legally binding, sir?”

“Dad, stop interrogating her. You’re off the clock.”

“It’s not an interrogation if I didn’t ask any questions,” then he turned towards Y/N. “And you can call me Noah. It’s Sheriff Stilinski when I’m in uniform, but hopefully you’ll never need to call me that ‘cause you promised your folks you’ll behave. Remember? You’re in Beacon Hills on probation.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

The man laughed. Honestly laughed like Stiles hasn’t heard him do in so long that his heart ached. He then closed a door behind him and Y/N let out a breath that Stiles thought she’d been holding in for a while.

“Sorry for him! He’s not usually like this, I swear.”

“You mean he doesn’t threaten to arrest all the girls you bring home? Huh, I feel special.”

She winked at him and Stiles went right back to his plate in order to hide the subtle flush in his face. Girls you bring home, what does that even mean? He didn’t bring her, she brought herself here.

He realized in horror that after he ate his last bite he had to say something back. In order to make himself look busy after he finished his meal, he got started on the dishes immediately. It was only fair that if his father cooked he should do the cleaning. They sat in silence for a while, Stiles chewing on his lip like that would give him an excuse for not talking. Every sound was magnified in those moments; the water rushing out of the faucet, the plates clinking when porcelain met porcelain, the creak of the floor as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

He turned around, drying his hands on his own pants in the absence of a towel. He hoped the girl didn’t find that habit too off putting. Leaning his head a bit to the side like a puzzled dog Stiles felt a jolt of pain surge through his neck. Instinctively, he covered the spot with his hand like that would do something.

“You didn’t really sleep on the chair the whole night, did you? I told you I’d be fine.”

“It’s not that bad, I’ve slept worse.”

But just as he moved his head he felt a barking pain in his neck once again, making him wince involuntarily.

“Do yourself a favor, never play poker,” Y/N deadpanned.

As Stiles sat down back in his chair he felt the girl’s hands on his shoulders. His entire body froze. She started massaging the painful spots, making her way up and towards his neck. It felt amazing having her touch him so gently and carefully. Not punch him, shove him or poke him. Or bite him, for that matter. Her hands went up and down, then she pressed on his shoulder blades and Stiles let out a gasp. He told himself he wasn’t a weirdo for enjoying this, that was the point of the massage.

His heart was hammering in his chest, so strong and loud he was certain she’d hear it even if she wasn’t a werewolf.

Wait a moment.

If Y/N has been a wolf the whole time, she must already know. She has been hearing Stiles’ heartbeat go crazy every time she was nearby, sensing every small, humanly unperceivable way he reacted to her presence, her smell, her touch. She has to know. She has to.

Then if she didn’t say anything, it must be because she didn’t feel the same. Or if Stiles allowed himself to be self-indulgent one last time, it was because she also couldn’t bear the thought of being with him only to leave again. That’s what the version of her that lives in his fantasy would say. And then she’d say something cheesy about how keeping him at arm’s length was pure agony and she wished nothing more than to throw all caution to the wind and make love to him.

He really needed to stop reading romance novels. But they were the only action he was getting for now, and the only kind of pleasure he had with no guilt attached to it.

Y/N firmly pressed her thumbs at the base of Stiles’ neck, which earned her a quiet whimper. She leaned in closer, as to get a better angle, but as a consequence Stiles could now feel her breath on his neck and he shuddered.

“This would be a lot easier if you were laying down,” Y/N murmured as she worked a particular spot on his back.

Fuck no. He was already half hard, biting on his lip to stifle any undignified sounds he might make. There was no way he was making it out of a full massage, laying down with her on top of him, her hands touching him everywhere, with his dignity intact.

He felt dirty. Because she was trying to help him out and he was enjoying it entirely too much. This was supposed to be a friendly gesture and Stiles was making it dirty because he couldn’t get his shit together for five minutes. But her touch was so gentle yet firm and the boy couldn’t help but wonder how her hands would feel on other parts of his body.

“No,” the word came out whinier than Stiles intended. “I’m fine.”

“Ok then, there’s another, quicker way.”

And before he could ask Y/N what she was talking about, she lifted her hand off his back and grabbed him by the arm, her burning hot skin making full contact with his own. He felt the pain in his body being lifted like a fog, only a small fraction of it remaining like an echo.

He saw something akin to jet black tar crawling its way up the girl’s arm from the very same spot she was holding onto him. As his mind cleared a little from continuously repeating she’s touching me, she’s touching me omg he realized what she was doing. Scott told him that werewolves can relieve someone’s pain if they make physical contact. All the hurt that was lifted from his body must be going into hers.

“Hey, stop that.”

The boy shook off Y/N's touch, although it felt counterintuitive for as much as he loved her touch, and she let go of him with a gasp.

“Sorry, is this creeping you out? I just wanted to help.”

“You don’t have to do that, I don’t like the thought of you hurting just to help me.”

“Well, you’re only hurting because you slept in that chair to help me. So…”

She trailed off, not needing to say anything else to make her point. She was fidgeting with her hands and Stiles found it impossible not to stare and think about those hands on him. Touching, squeezing, scratching, rubbing –

“I know you have questions so let’s get this over with. Shoot.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what was being said to him. Partly because he was thinking about something else entirely (cut him some slack, he’s never received a massage before, let alone one from a hot girl he was in pathetic limerence with) and partly because Y/N said what she said very quickly, like she didn’t want him to understand.

“Why did you come here last night?”

“That’s it? You find out I’m a monster and all you want to know is why I’m  here?”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Stiles said a little louder than he intended. “Please,” he added softly.

“You’re awfully calm about the whole I turn into a wolf on a monthly basis thing. I wasn’t that calm when I realized.”

“I told you Scott is one, too. And I figured it out before he did.”

“Of course you did, you clever boy,” Y/N laughed humorlessly, like she found this trait in Stiles endearing but she was in such a sour mood she couldn’t bring herself to really laugh.

“I don’t care, we’re still friends.”

Stiles tentatively reached out a hand towards her, moving so very slowly in order to give her time to dodge his touch if she so wished. His hand gingerly made contact with her arm and he squeezed it. He couldn’t actually take away her pain like a werewolf could but he hoped the gesture was comforting nonetheless. He didn’t expect her to lean in closer and closer until her head was resting on the crook of his neck and he found himself wrapping his arms around her once again, ever-so-slowly as if he was afraid she’d run away. Her hair smelled like berries and he wondered if she used a strongly scented soap and shampoo to cover the wolf smell. He breathed it in regardless and let out a contented sigh.

“You don’t have to explain to me about last night if you don’t want to. I’m just happy you know that when you need someone you can always come to me, ok? Whatever happened last night, if it happens again, I’m here for you.”

Stiles stopped talking, almost abruptly so, when he felt Y/N press a gentle but firm kiss on his cheek. He felt his tongue turn into lead. It was a good thing since what he said sounded dangerously close to a love confession, and maybe if he didn’t stop right that moment, he would’ve confessed. And he’d say something painfully corny like “I’m here for you because I love you. I always have and I probably always will. I was willing to sacrifice myself as werewolf bait last night for you, just so you know.” But he shut his mouth, smartly so.

“I don’t deserve a friend as good as you,” she whispered.

Friend. He loved being her friend. He relished in walking with her to classes and having lunch together at school, helping her with school work and being helped in return, listening to her problems big and small. But good god he wished he could be a friend she can kiss, touch, make love to. He wished he could still be her friend and her lover. It was childish and preposterous, wanting to have his cake and eat it, too; since he could only choose one, being her friend will have to do.

“But you have me anyway.”

binging? here's part 3

i'm already 1.5k words into part 3 of this thing that was supposed to be a one shot. i think part 3 will be the last but i'm not making promisses. i might write a part 4 that's just smut. it feels wrong to have stiles thirst for so long and not give him release, that's just mean. like always feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this fic or this blog in general.

The train station was fairly quiet that Sunday morning. Two boys were waiting patiently on a bench for a train that announced to arrive half an hour late.

"Thanks again for helping me pick up my cousin, Stiles."

The boy shrugged as if to say no big deal.

The three of them used to be really close friends as little kids. She used to visit every summer vacation. They did everything together; go to the beach, cycle around the neighborhood, go for ice cream. Y/N and Scott used to make a competition out of everything. Who can make the better sandcastle? Who can finish their ice cream fastest?  Stiles was usually asked to be the referee which stressed him to no end because he didn't want to choose between his two best friends. It always ended in one of them being upset, although they never held a grudge for long.

But then Y/N got older, and Scott's parents got divorced; so change inevitably happened. She stopped visiting and Stiles hasn't really heard from her ever since. Scott would update him every once in a while. She cut her hair, had changed her style. She has a cat now. She picked up photography. She changed her style again.

Stiles wondered if he could pick her up from a crowd now that four years had passed since the last time he'd seen her. They weren't kids anymore. He wondered if she still did that cute thing when she'd smile with just one corner of her mouth like she was trying to hide it but couldn't help it. Or if she still twirled her hair around her index finger when she thought about something really hard.

The sound of an old lady making an announcement over the speakers jolted Stiles awake from his reverie. The train was about to arrive in 5 minutes. Finally.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, it's just… will you promise me something, Stiles?" he nodded in response. "Promise you won't make it weird with Y/N being back?"

"Dude, it's been forever. I forgot I even used to have a crush on her. Plus I'm loyal to Lydia these days."

"She doesn't even remember your name," Scott pointed exasperated.

"Who? Lydia or Y/N?

Scott laughed. Stiles having a crush on his cousin wasn't gonna make a difference because she'd never like him back anyway. She didn't seem much into romance. One time a boy kissed her cheek at a birthday party and she hit him over the head with a pool noodle until he started crying. She used to chase guys around with bugs or worms in her hand and they would scream and scatter. She'd laugh about it. Stiles tried to compliment her once and she punched him in the arm so hard he fell over.

She used to punch him in the arm a lot actually, now that he thought about it. So much so that his shoulder area was in an almost constant dull pain while she was visiting. Stiles never thought he'd miss the pain until Scott told him she wasn't coming over that summer.

But now she was back. Scott says she's been getting into a lot of trouble lately and that her parents don't know what to do with her anymore. He's overheard phone conversations between his mom and Y/N's and the situation is dire. She says that sending her away is an alarm signal and if she doesn't start behaving now they'll need to take serious measures. Stiles had no idea what "serious measures" meant, but it couldn't be good. Yet another reason why Stiles shouldn't couldn't have a crush on her. She was gonna disappear again.

The train had finally made it to the station and small rivulets of people started pouring out with their suitcases and trolley bags. Stiles spotted Y/N with such ease he surprised himself.

She looked the exact same as he remembered. She looked nothing like she used to. Both statements were true at the same time. There was something about her – her eyes, her smile, that Stiles recognized immediately. Like you recognize the first few notes of your favorite song before it really starts playing. She was the same old girl who left Beacon Hills four years ago, yet she was brand new somehow.

She gave Scott a hug then he grabbed a few of her bags and started helping her carry them to the jeep parked nearby. Stiles debated whether or not to go in for a hug, but halfway through it he chickened out and pretended he was just leaning in for her backpack since it was the last piece of her luggage.

"It's fine," she assured him seeming mildly annoyed. "I got this one."

Of course she'd give Scott a hug, they're related and have kept in touch all this time. To her Stiles was just some kid she used to play with who had a massive and painfully obvious crush on her. He cringed internally thinking about all the times she caught him staring at her and she rolled her eyes or flipped him off. She was probably angry at Scott for bringing him here.

"Scotty?"

"You only call me that when you want something."

"Can I get shotgun? I'll get a better view and I want to take pictures."

She pulled out of her jean jacket's pocket a small digital camera and gave a lopsided smile. Yes, Stiles thought, she still did that.  Scott just pointed towards the front seat with his chin and jumped in the back of the jeep.

Stiles did his best to hide how nervous he was now that he wasn't just sharing a car with his first-ever crush, but she was gonna be in the front of the car with him. He was grateful his mom owned a jeep and not something tiny like a mini Cooper. Because then the half-hour-long drive would turn into pure torture.

They recounted stories on the way and laughed and Y/N took so many pictures. Some of them while hanging half out of the car, almost giving Stiles a heart attack in the process; some of them were artsy shots of the dashboard or the rearview mirror. She even took a picture of Stiles while he was driving, causing him to take one hand off the wheel to cover his face self-consciously. She berated him for putting them in danger but she laughed while doing it so she didn't really mean it.

"If I die in this car cause you wanted to be coy I'll haunt your ass," she says as she snaps another shot of him, this time both his hands were on the steering wheel.

"If we die in this car it'll be because you put a camera in the driver's face."

"The flash isn't even on." She turned around and took a picture of Scott next. Stiles saw him giving an awkward thumbs up in the rearview mirror. "Now that's more like it."

Stiles saw in the corner of his eye the camera turning towards him once again and he flipped her off without thinking. He immediately felt bad for it. Few years ago she would have flipped him off right back and laughed about it but they weren't twelve and best friends anymore. He needed to remind himself of that.

As Y/N went quiet for a second inspecting the picture she just took on the tiny screen of her camera, Stiles chewed on his lips and debated between apologizing sincerely or trying to play it off as a joke.

"Look Y/N, I'm sorry–" he started but got interrupted.

"This is actually really good, can I post this?"

Stiles had no idea Y/N posted her picture somewhere on the internet. She didn't have an instagram or facebook, he knew because he's looked for her. Some people may call it cyberstalking; he'd call it being curious. He even asked Scott when he got desperate and Scott said she doesn't really do social media. Sometimes she'd text Scott a really cool picture she took and if Stiles was there he'd show it to him. He always assumed the pictures were just for herself or maybe a portfolio if she planned on doing this professionally one day.

"Look you can't even see your face– if that's what you're worried about."

She turned the camera around for him to look just as they pulled over in Scott's driveway. The camera focused on Stiles' hand, which was strategically covering his face, and the rest of him was blurred and hardly recognizable. Stiles wouldn't call that a good picture but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel flattered that Y/N wanted to post a picture of him on her social media.

"Sure, I don't mind."

"Thanks! And thanks for picking me up, too. My cousin is too lazy to get a driver's license."

"Oh, really? Where's yours?"

"I had one but my parents took it because I got caught sneaking out at night. I'll get it back in a few months."

They helped Y/N haul her luggage all the way up into the attic, where Ms. McCall arranged a makeshift bedroom for her. Stiles recognized the bedframe because it was Scott's years ago before he got the one he has in his room now. The mattress looked new and so did the bed sheets. They stood out in an otherwise very old, dusty room. It was clear Scott's mom made an effort to clean up but the attic was beyond salvation at that point. The room looked good but in the corners there were still some boxes of things the family kept stored away. There were cobwebs and water damage to the walls and ceiling.

Stiles thought there was a metaphor in there somewhere for an attic trying to double as a bedroom, trying to be something it's not. An attic being representative of all that is old and out of use but you hold unto it for sentimentality. Like a childhood crush; something familiar and comforting that won't go anywhere but throwing it away feels like a betrayal.

It reminded him that no matter how much you brushed off the dust of something old, it still doesn't make it work as if it's new. The past stays in the past and we have to move forward. Some things can not be brought back.

"Thanks again for the help," Y/N chimed in interrupting his train of thought.

Her hand brushed his as she grabbed her backpack from his hand and gently placed it on her bed. He felt a familiar shiver buzz through him. Starting from the very point her fingertips made contact with his skin and going everywhere at once.

Some things stay in the past and some things stay with you forever.

Stiles nervously fiddled with the buttons of his jacked before hitting his car’s horn the first time. He’s talked to Y/N and promised he’d pick her up for the party they were all going to since Scott wanted to pick Allison up and spend some one-on-one time with her. How this girl agreed on going to a party with his dorky best friend was beyond him.

The boy found himself checking his own reflection in his rearview mirror multiple times before honking a second time, just to make sure he was heard.

Y/N had moved to Beacon Hills three weeks and five days ago (not that Stiles was counting or anything). He was finally managing to be normal in her presence, at least when Scott or some other person was around them. Still, knowing there was only gonna be the two of them in his car with no buffer made him nervous. Stiles had a penchant for shoving his foot in his mouth every time he found himself alone in this girl’s presence. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so mortifying.

One time they were alone for all of five minutes, he and Scott were helping her unpack and shuffle some furniture around (there wasn’t a lot of it in her room/attic). Scott took a break to go to the bathroom. Stiles was shelving books while on the other end of the room, Y/N was unpacking and sorting out clothes. She pulled a cute sundress out of a box and tried it against her body for a second, looking in the mirror mounted on the wardrobe.

“I don’t know why I brought this with me, it’s gonna get too cold in the fall for this."

She still hung the dress on a clothes hanger with a disappointed look on her face.

“I’m sure it looks good on you. My mom used to wear dresses like that.”

Stiles let his head fall on the steering wheel, feeling embarrassment wash over him like it was happening all over again. He accidentally touched the horn a third time and jumped at the sound. Is he gonna seem impatient now that he’s honked three times? Fuck, he didn’t even get to see her and he already messed up.

At least it’s better than comparing her to his dead mother. Holy shit, does he not think before opening his mouth in front of her? My mom used to wear dresses like that. What a dumbass. Now she’s gonna assume he thinks of her like a mother figure –he doesn’t– or that he’s into her because she reminds him of his mother – she doesn’t. Either option made Stiles want to drive into a lake.

Deep in thought he almost didn’t hear the knocking on his car’s window. It was Y/N and she was wearing a red flannel over a graphic t-shirt with a comic book speech bubble that said ‘I’m fluent in sarcasm’, Melisa McCall was behind her snuggled in a comfy looking house robe.

Stiles leaned towards the car door and cracked it open from the inside as much as he could. If he was smarter he would have come out of the car and opened the door for her from the outside. And Y/N would find it charming and sweet, maybe it would make up for all the time he was less than charming or sweet. He thought about it before getting here but he got taken by surprise by Scott’s mom and then it suddenly felt like he would be trying too hard if he did that. He didn’t want to make it so obvious that he wanted this girl’s approval.

Ultimately that was what Stiles was chasing; approval. It’s not like he was gonna get a date or at least a kiss. Y/N was there temporarily and then she’d be gone and everything would have to go back to normal. Anything serious or permanent, anything they couldn’t go back from was out of the question. And Stiles had the feeling Y/N wasn’t the type of girl you kiss once only to walk away. So he settled for her to at least look at him like she wanted to kiss him and that would have to be enough.

Yeah, for him it would be enough.

Y/N made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, smoothing over her clothes when Melisa grabbed the car door and widened it, peaking her head in slightly.

“Make sure to look after her, ok Stiles? I’m trusting you to keep her safe.”

“Or you can come with us and keep an eye on her yourself, ma’am,” Stiles joked. “You’d blend right in.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

She rolled her eyes in fake annoyance but Stiles noticed a slight smile tugging at her lips.

“I mean it, I want you on your best behavior.”

“Yes ma’am,” Stiles quipped nodding his head towards the woman.

She leaned inside the car and fastened Y/N’s seatbelt on tightly. He expected the girl to protest or at least roll her eyes but she just gave her aunt a kiss on the cheek and a smile.

“And you, remember what your parents told you?”

“Promise I’ll be good, auntie. Besides you asked Stiles to babysit me and you know he’s such an angel.”

Melissa let out a snort and waved her hand goodbye as the two teenagers drove away.

Y/N jokingly called him an angel and he couldn’t help but think that his mother also used to do that. Every time he got himself into trouble, or detention, or he broke a vase; she’d call him her little angel and help clean whatever mess he was in.

He couldn’t say anything about that, though, if he compared her to his mother twice in a row he would simply jump out of the car while it was still in motion. If the friend zone was so dreaded by men everywhere, imagine what being son zoned will do to you.

Another thought crossed his mind and Stiles tried to shove it away before it was too late. He was unsuccessful. The last time Y/N was in Beacon Hills, his mom was still alive. He would give everything to go back to that place in time. Sell his soul to the devil to be twelve again and in love with his friend and have his mom tease him for it like before. He used to hate it. He’d get all red in the face and tell her to mind her own business.

“My son’s love life is my business,” she’d say.

“What love life? I have no love life.”

“Not now, but when you’re older I want you to know that you can talk to me about it.”

And then he’d make a face because the mere thought of talking to his mom about feelings towards girls and boys felt so embarrassing. Now he would kill for a chance to talk to his mom again and ask her something as mundane as what to do about his crush.

He stopped at a red light a bit too suddenly, causing both of them to sway in their seat. Stiles felt the familiar ache of trying to hold back tears, he tried looking up and when that didn’t work he let out a sigh. It would have been just like him to cry for no reason in front of the girl he liked.

“What’s wrong, Stiles?”

Y/N said his name softly, like a secret. He involuntarily held his breath as he felt her hand creep on top of his on the gear stick.

 “Nothing,” he found himself lying in spite of his glistening eyes.

Under any other circumstances, he would have just told Y/N the truth; that he was thinking about his mother. But he promised himself he would not mention her tonight, not so soon after the last time they spoke.

“We don’t have to go to this stupid party if you don’t want to. We can just go to your place and play some scrabble or we could read some comics and when you’re sick of me you can drop me home.”

Her thumb was rubbing the back of his hand and it affected Stiles more than it should for such an insignificant gesture.

“No, it’ll be good for you to go to a party. You know, meet kids outside of school, make some friends that aren’t me and Scott.”

He removed his gaze from the road to look at her, really look for the first time since she got in his car. He searched for a word that described her properly. The only one he could come up with was disarming. The kind of beauty that makes knights throw down their weapons and surrender, the kind that would make him kneel and beg. Except that Stiles was no knight in shining armor and the only weapon he was wielding was his wit. No wonder he forgot how to speak around her, how to be clever. She was disarming him.

 The light changed from red to green and it didn’t make her look sickly– like he expected but ethereal, otherworldly. Disarmingly beautiful, he thought.

“Stiles, go,” she whispered.

It took Stiles an embarrassing amount of seconds to realize what she was talking about. Green light. Go. When he finally managed to shift gears, the girl took her hand off of his and he immediately felt the loss of heat.

“You got lost in your thoughts again. You know, whenever you feel ready to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’m here.”

The words `really, I’m fine` were dancing on his lips once again. After all, how could he ever tell her that more often than not he lost himself in thoughts of her? Instead, he surprised himself by saying something else entirely.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The music at the party was too loud and not really Stiles’ taste. Inside the house it smelled like booze and sweaty teenagers so he grabbed Y/N’s arm and gently dragged her after him all the way to Lydia’s backyard, where her pool was. Normally at parties, Stiles sits in a corner and talks to whoever will listen, mostly other socially awkward nerdy kids, they tended to find each other easily. But this time he found himself swaying to the music alongside Y/N wondering if he could try and pinch himself without making it super obvious.

To be fair, if this was a dream they’d probably be making out by now.

He saw Y/N leaning in closer and closer to the point where he honestly thought she was going in for a kiss, and then he felt her breath to his ear. She smelled like something sweet (berries?) and she was radiating heat. Stiles shivered. He was too dazed to decipher what was being said and, by the time he came back to his senses, she leaned away.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

She leaned in even closer this time propping a hand against his chest, and instead of whispering her words came out more like a shout.

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, ok?”

Without checking if Stiles understood what was being said this time she walked away and the boy found himself in the all too familiar position he usually ends up in at parties. He looked around for something to do while waiting for Y/N, wondering if he should’ve just gone with her inside.

Maybe she needed a second away from him. Maybe he was giving her the creeps. He liked to think that he was hiding his crush pretty well – yeah, he was awkward around her but so was he around everybody. He just wasn’t that good at the whole socializing thing.

While looking around for a corner to hide in, Stiles spotted his best friend dancing with Alison. He made a b-line towards them.

“Stiles, where’s Y/N?”

“She’s gone to get a drink. How are you holding up?”

He didn’t know how else to phrase the question without raising suspicion. Hey, Scott, how are you dealing with the first full moon since you’ve been bitten by a werewolf? That would send Allison running. But his friend knew exactly what he meant, he could tell by the look he gave him.

Stiles found it hard to believe that only a few days ago he thought the hardest thing for him to do this year would be hiding his feelings from his crush and his best friend. Now he’s gonna have to help said friend hide his werewolf side from… well, everybody. Spending time alone with Y/N in his car didn’t seem so daunting in retrospect.

“I’m fine,” Scott said, but Stiles didn’t buy it.

He was going to offer to go after Y/N and get a drink for him. Maybe that would drown out the wolf, but then again it might bring it to the surface. Better not to risk it.

Deep in thought, Stiles didn’t realize Y/N had made her way back to his side with two drinks in hand until suddenly her arms wrapped around him and she whispered something in his ear. He must have misheard her or fully hallucinated because there was no way that what she said was real.

“Hold me like you can’t get enough of me.”

Her arms were now holding him tighter and Stiles could feel the can of soda in her hand pressing against the back of his neck. It was cold and probably the only thing keeping him from melting in Y/N’s arms.

He hugged her back, unsure of where to place his hands at first. He decided one in the space between her shoulder blades and one right above her hip. He squeezed her gently, unable to shake the feeling that his hand fit perfectly in the dip of her waist. She leaned once again like she was trying to whisper something in his ear but this time Stiles placed his head on her shoulder, resting his forehead there in order to make it easier for her to tell him things.

“I’m gonna let go now, but leave one arm around me.”

Stiles breathed in her berry scent and let out a sigh. She was letting go too soon. He didn’t remember the last time he got a hug like this, full-bodied, as tight as it can get, feel it in your heart type of hug. When she let go it felt like somebody removed a rib from his chest.

As per her instructions, his hand remained firmly above her hip and although five minutes ago he’d kill to be this close to her, now it wasn’t close enough.

When he looked back from Y/N to Scott and Allison they had matching shocked expressions.

“Did I miss something important?” Scott asked perplexed and Stiles heard the barely contained anger simmering below the surface.

“Just a guy hitting on me at the punch bowl. I figured if he saw me with some other guy he’d give up. Men are like wolves that way, they respect each other’s territories.”

Stiles didn’t miss the irony of Y/N comparing men to wolves to her cousin, an actual wolf. He smirked and hoped she didn’t see it.

“Allison, is the guy in the lime green shirt still looking at me?”

Allison subtly looked towards the doorway over Y/N’s shoulder. She let out a tsk and gave the girl an apologetic smile. He must still be looking.

“Do you want me to talk to him, Y/N?” Scott nearly growled.

Scott was not-so-subtly glaring in the same direction as Allison was a second ago.

“Down boy,” Y/N joked. “Since when are you Mr. Though Guy?”

Stiles caught the yellow flash of Scott’s eyes for a second and felt the dread of the truth being out. He told Scott not to come to this stupid party, not on a full fucking moon. But does he ever listen to his smart and reasonable friend? Nooo.

Scott looked like he was about to transform when Y/N did something brilliant. She downed her drink in one big gulp and pushed her cousin into the pool behind him, falling with him in the process. The water splashed both Stiles and Allison, who let out an undignified squeak.

It worked. Scott seemed back to his normal self if a little peeved for being pushed in the pool. He pulled one arm all the way back, then hit the water at full force, splashing as much as he could directly at Y/N. She retaliated. Allison gave Stiles a nudge and pointed at the two playing in the pool as if to say “Look at these two idiots”. And he didn’t realize it at the moment but they both had a similar love struck expression pasted on their faces.

A couple other brave teenagers jumped in the pool after Y/N inspired them. Stiles tried to shield his face from all the water splashing in all directions. Suddenly he felt a soaking wet hand grab at his ankle.

“Y/N, no! It’s cold as shit tonight!”

She let go and flipped him off. The pool was getting crowded so the girl lifted herself out of it with surprising ease. She took her shirt off and did her best to wrangle out any water in it.

Stiles forgot how to breathe. One moment he was with his friends at the party having fun and the very next it’s just him and Y/N left in the whole world and she is shirtless and he can see her bra and her stomach and that dip where her waist meets her hip. He licks his lips desperately trying to find the strength to look away.

Three seconds. He gives himself three seconds to admire her and then he’s gonna turn around and forget what he’d seen.

One…

Two…

Three–

Wait. Was that motherfucker who was bothering her earlier still there? Was he also staring at her body with the same hunger in his eyes? And if he was; how was Stiles any better than him?

He turns around to look for him, with no idea what he actually looks like but Y/N mentioned a lime green shirt and that’s hard to miss. All of a sudden he felt something cold and wet hit him in the back. It was Y/N’s shirt that she was brandishing like a whip. He saw her twisting it again and going for a second hit, which he dodged.

“You’re relentless,” he laughs but he’s pretty sure she didn’t hear it since the music was still blaring at full volume.

He took off his own jacket and draped it across her shoulders, surprised by the amount of heat her body was radiating still. As his hands gently brushed against her skin he expected it to be ice cold, but it felt feverish to the touch.

She couldn’t have caught a cold that fast, could she?

“Are you feeling ok?” he asked, the back of his hand brushing the side of her face trying to gauge her temperature.

“Yeah, I just run hot.”

She shook off the excess water in her hair in a dog-like manner. Stiles took a step back. He took the shirt from Y/N’s hand and tried to squeeze a few more drops of water out of it. When he looked back at her, his jacket was buttoned up and fully covering her. The boy decided that he liked this look on her even better.

He wasn’t sure what to feel more guilt over; how much he liked seeing Y/N half naked or the satisfaction he felt seeing her wearing his clothes. He had no right to be possessive over her but the thought popped into his head regardless: Let green shirt guy top this.

“Are you gonna give me your pants, too?” Y/N asked with a grin.

Stiles realized he must have been staring like an idiot this whole time and maybe the filthy things he was thinking were etched on his face. But if they were, Y/N didn’t seem to hate him just yet.

“Please, you’re gonna have to work harder than that to get in my pants.”

The girl laughed. A genuine and lighthearted sound that made Stiles’ heart stop for a beat. He was afraid his joke wasn’t gonna be received well, but Y/N has always been the type of person who can take a joke.

He gave the girl a once over, examining the still very wet state of her with worry.

“What am I gonna tell Melisa?” he wondered out loud.

“That we had fun, nerd.”

She punched his shoulder lightly and Stiles couldn’t stop a small smile from forming on his lips. There was still hope. They could still be friends like before and tease each other and have fun. In spite of his ever growing fondness for her, they could still salvage what remained of their friendship. And maybe Stiles would survive this trial like he survived everything that came before it.

“Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.”

Stiles looked back at Scott and Alison but they were playing in the pool together and he didn’t want to interrupt their date any more than he already had. He put a hand on Y/N’s back to gently guide her inside the house.

If anybody asks, he did it to make sure she doesn’t run off back into the pool. If anybody pressed him on the matter, it’s because he just loves being so close to her. But if he was wholly honest, his hand just ended up there without him thinking about it, like muscle memory, like he had done it a thousand times before.

Once inside she ran for the kitchen to get another drink and Stiles followed her because he didn’t want to risk green shirt guy appearing again.

He watched her pour straight vodka in her red solo cup and down it like it was nothing. Is that what she had in her cup earlier, too? And if that was the case, how was she still standing up? Two full glasses of vodka would have sent Stiles to the hospital.

The boy remembered what Scott said, that Y/N had some issues and that’s why her parents sent her away. Were her issues alcohol related? And if so then was he enabling her right now?

Stiles took the now empty cup and cleaned it a little in the sink before refilling it with water.

“Thank me for this tomorrow,” he says while handing her the cup back.

The girl rolled her eyes a little but she took the plastic cup with her to the living room where a bunch of kids were sitting in a circle, playing truth or dare. She elbowed Stiles in the ribs and pointed in their direction with her chin. At first Stiles thought she was pointing at the circle as a whole but then he realized she was pointing at one person in particular. Lydia Martin.

“Wanna play?” she gave him a knowing grin.

How would she know about Lydia? He never said a word. Unless…

“Scott. He told you.”

Scott used to update Stiles on what was new in Y/N’s life semi-regularly. If she was dating somebody, if she made any big changes to her look, if she got in trouble, Stiles knew about it. Not that he was asking, it usually just came about.

“Hey Scott, who are you texting?”

“Just Y/N. She got a new camera, look.”

And he’d show him a picture. It was a selfie in a mirror, but her face was fully obscured by the bulky camera she was holding. He noticed a picture of the three of them when they were kids stuck in the corner of her mirror. He remember when they took that picture, they were at a public pool and Y/N was wearing a Disney princess swimsuit, which made Stiles jealous because he wanted one too but they only made them for girls.

Or.

He remembered one time he came over to Scott’s house to study together for an exam and when he got there his friend was on the phone.

“One second, Stiles is here,” he took a pause like he was listening to something on the other side. “Y/N says hi.”

“Tell her I said hi, too?”

“Stiles says he loves you and can’t stay away from you any longer. He’s moving next door to you this week–”

Then Scott got cut off by the pillow Stiles threw in his face. He laughed as he ran a hand through his hair to put it back in place, phone still glued to his ear.

“Well, your boyfriend can cry about it. I think he’s kind of a dick anyway.”

Stiles had no idea she had a boyfriend until then. And he felt stupid for assuming she’d be as chronically single as he was. With her wit and charm boys were probably standing in line waiting for a chance.

He had never stopped to ponder the idea that Scott was probably telling her things about him, too. Like how he got diagnosed with ADHD and got put on meds, or the fact that he had an unhealthy obsession with Lydia Martin, the most popular girl in school.

What does Y/N know about Stiles that he’s never shared? Scott wasn’t a gossip, he certainly hadn’t shared any gory details, right? Like Stiles knew Y/N had a boyfriend and that Scott didn’t like him, but he didn’t have any idea why. Scott never gave him a reason for why he disliked him and Stiles never asked because he assumed it would be too personal to share.

He probably had only mentioned it off-hand like:

“Oh, yeah, Stiles has a crush on this girl he has no chance with.”

Y/N had said something back like: “Yeah, he does that a lot.”

And they both laughed at him.

Stiles looked back between Lydia and Y/N wondering if he actually has a type after all, and it’s girls who wouldn’t look at him twice.

Y/N was looking at him quizzically and he remembered that she had asked him a question which he hadn’t answered because he’s been trapped by his own self-doubt and anxieties.

“Sure,” he finally murmurs. “But you gotta drink all of this first.”

He pointed at the red cup full of water in her hand, which he presumed she only took to shut him up and wasn’t planning on touching the rest of the night. But she looked at the cup and then at the circle of people that were now cheering on a guy who dropped ice down his pants, then took a few big gulps of her water, finishing it before the ice melted.

“Hey, got room for two more players?” she asked a little louder than she needed because the music wasn’t blaring as loud in the room they were in as it did outside.

Some guy whooped and patted a spot next to him on the floor. The two of them took that as an invitation and sat down. A blonde girl, Stiles was pretty sure her name was Malia, got dared to remove an item of clothing and they all watched in awe as she removed her bra from underneath her shirt, then flung it like a slingshot at the guy who dared her in the first place.

They kept going in a circle, spinning a bottle to determine who was asking or daring who. Every time somebody picked truth there was a girl who determined how honest you were, her name was Cora and everyone in the circle swore up and down that she was psychic. Now that he knew werewolves were a real thing, Stiles couldn’t really scoff at the idea of a psychic girl. And everybody kept insisting “trust me, we played a bunch of times with her and she always knows”.

So when his turn came he picked truth out of curiosity, to see if he could lie to a mind-reader. Also because most of the dares were raunchy or embarrassing and Stiles didn’t think he could take making a fool of himself in front of both Lydia and Y/N.

“What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex in?”

Fuck.

“The…” he took a second like he was remembering something. “Back of my jeep.”

Stiles hoped that telling a very mild lie that made him seem boring was probably his best bet to getting away with it. Anything bolder and even a non-psychic would be able to tell he was full of it. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as Cora’s eyes narrowed as if she were searching for something inside him.

“Bullshit,” she declared.

Double fuck.

“I’ve never…” he felt too embarrassed to finish the sentence. He looked up at the ceiling like he was annoyed at the question and not utterly humiliated.

The only way out is through, he thought.

“I’m a virgin.”

Oohs and aahs were heard from the group of kids. Stiles tried his absolute best not to look at Y/N. He was desperate to know what she thought about him in that moment. Did her opinion of him change at all? Did she think he was a loser? Did she already know? Did Scott tell her?

Lydia looked completely unbothered but that didn’t surprise Stiles. She probably didn’t even know his name until Y/N said it at some point during the night. Jackson was right next to her looking smug as always and Stiles just knew he was gonna give him grief for this later, during lacrosse practice or in the locker room.

He tried to play it cool like it was no big deal, but his face was burning hot. He knew, intellectually, that the average age of losing one’s virginity in America was 18.4, so he wasn’t falling behind by any means. Yet still, he felt like he was missing out on something. Especially since Scott started dating Allison because he knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be the only virgin in his friend group. The more the clock was ticking the harder it will be for him to find someone who didn’t think it was weird. And then before he’d know it he’d be 35 having never felt the touch of a woman because his type was utterly unavailable.

“New girl, truth or dare?”

Y/N spun the bottle and it landed on the same guy who dared Malia to take off her bra. Somebody in the circle murmured ‘careful’ but Stiles couldn’t pinpoint who exactly said it. He knew exactly why they said it though. That guy had creep written all over him. Everything he said to the girls was an innuendo, he was undressing them with his eyes, unashamed of it too, he was so clearly playing this game trying to get some kind of action.

“Dare.”

The shit eating grin on that guy’s face made the hair on Stiles' arm stand up. He finally had the guts to look at Y/N again, considering enough time had passed between Cora’s question and now that it didn’t look like he desperately wanted to see her reaction. She looked fierce and determined as always. As if she wasn’t at the mercy of this guy’s perverted mind.

“Give someone in this circle a hickey.”

Stiles froze in his place. Once again he looked away from Y/N, knowing that his thoughts were written on his face and she knew him well-enough to read them.

He examined her options.

Creep? No way.

Jackson? Too douche-y for her.

Boyd? Some girl’s hand was possessively gripping his thigh as if she was thinking the same thing.

One of the girls? Maybe…

Then Y/N popped on his lap like it meant nothing, straddling him between her thighs. If Stiles' face was pink earlier, it was definitely burning red now.

“This ok?” she asked gently.

Stiles’ heart stopped in his chest. This was real. His crush was straddling his lap and was about to suck on his neck in front of a bunch of strangers, all ogling them like they were at the circus. And Stiles was beginning to feel like a clown.

He almost said no. He was terrified of what this could mean for their friendship. He knew there was no coming back from this. There was no world in which Stiles could have Y/N do this to him and then act normal in her presence ever again. This was bad bad bad. It’d be best to say no.

He opened his mouth but found himself unable to speak. He should say no but he didn’t want to.

And then he thought about Y/N and how she never backs down from a dare. How even when they were kids she and Scott made everything into a competition and she would always try to win, to her own detriment sometimes. They'd try to see who can finish their ice cream faster and she’d get a brain freeze but keep eating anyway.

If Stiles refused she would just hop in someone else’s lap and still do the dare, then he’d be forced to watch her give someone else a hickey knowing it could’ve been him the whole time. He’d die of jealousy. And Stiles was the only person she knew in this circle, the only one she trusted and felt comfortable around. If he said no, she’d have to do this very intimate act with a stranger.

So when he put it this way he was being charitable.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, afraid of what undignified noise he might make if he opened his mouth.

“Cover the little one’s eyes,” someone shouted and Malia put her hand on top of Cora’s eyes, who just laughed and let it happen. “She’s a minor, she can’t see this.”

Y/N leaned down to reach his neck. He looked up, partially to give her better access and partially to avoid looking at the gawking teenagers around them. The fact that they just found out he was a virgin right before this made things ten times worse for him.

He felt the girl’s hot breath right above the base of his neck, above the vein that leads to his heart. He took in one deep breath, then tried to hold it. She smelled like raspberry flavored vodka, like a fancy cocktail you’d get at a bar. How drunk was she, really? Should he worry? If she’s too drunk to judge what she's doing, was he taking advantage of her? He did want it to happen but not like this. Not with people watching, not when she was drunk, not on a dare.

Holy shit.

And just like that her lips were on him, like he’d dreamed of so many times. She licked the spot at the base of his neck and Stiles would be lying if he said that feeling didn’t go straight to his dick. Another gentle kiss and then– oh.

He had no idea what to expect, he’d never done anything like this, but he definitely didn’t think it was gonna hurt as much as it did. Or that he was gonna enjoy the pain to that extent. He thought she was just gonna suck on his neck but it certainly felt more like a bite, and not a gentle nibble either. Stiles hissed. Those were most certainly her teeth scraping his skin. He found himself gripping her thigh in an attempt to stifle the pain; her jeans were still wet from being in the pool.

She placed a third kiss right before sucking on the very same spot she previously bit. The whimper that escaped Stiles' lips was one of the most unbecoming sounds he could’ve made. He heard Y/N’s lips come off him with a smacking sound that was gonna get stuck in his head forever.

“Still good?” the girl asked looking straight into his eyes.

Stiles wondered what she was looking for. Signs of regret? Pain? Desire? Because in that moment he was flipping through all of them in rapid succession.

“Yeah, are you?”

She kissed her thumb and pressed it against his lips. Before he could ask what that meant she got off him and let herself fall back in her spot on the floor. Stiles' lap was still wet in every spot that had made contact with her, the cool feeling serving as proof that he didn’t hallucinate it all.

“Lydia, I believe it’s your turn.”

The redhead grabbed the bottle from the middle of the circle and spun it lazily, it landed on Y/N.

“Dare,” Lydia announced without giving the other girl the occasion to even ask.

“My first dare, fun.”

She placed a finger on her chin and acted like she was thinking really hard about something, but Stiles knew her too well to fall for it. She had been probably cooking questions and dares since before she decided to join the game. He had no doubt she’d been sitting on something juicy this whole time, waiting for her moment. He was almost scared for Lydia.

“Let someone of my choosing…” she took a pause for dramatic effect and looked at the kitchen island visible from the living room floor. “…take a body shot off of you.”

A chorus of surprised sounds erupted from the group. Lydia eyed the creepy guy who was staring at her like a lion at an antelope.

“Not him,” she declared.

It was just like Lydia to still give orders even when it was her turn to take them.

“Deal.”

Y/N led the ginger to sit on the kitchen island, muttering something about how they don’t have tequila so vodka will have to do. She touched a lemon slice to Lydia’s right thigh and stuck some salt on it, poured a shot of vodka carefully balancing it on her left leg, the lemon slice was left on the counter in between the girl’s legs.

“Stiles?” she turned around to the whole group that was still waiting in the living room. “Will you do the honors?”

The boy choked on air.

“I’m-I’m driving.”

“Scott can drive us home. You can come pick up Roscoe from Lydia tomorrow.”

She gave him a wink and finally, he understood. Not only was she trying to set him up with Lydia tonight, she was giving him an excuse to come see her the next day. Evil fucking genius.

“I guess,” Stiles shrugged.

He walked up to the counter sluggishly, everybody else behind him waiting to see what happens like vultures waiting for a wounded animal to keel over. He stopped for a second, assessing the situation. Even though everybody in the room already knew he was inexperienced he was still too embarrassed to ask what he was supposed to do. He felt Y/N’s hand press down on the back of his head with surprising force and he found himself kneeling in front of Lydia’s spread legs.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, Stilinski.”

Stiles didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Jackson who spoke.

“If you cream your pants doing this doesn’t count as losing your virginity, by the way.”

That voice belonged to Creepy Guy.

Stiles licked the salt line off the girl’s thigh then drank the shot, it tasted like disinfectant and some of it spilled down his chin, then he snatched the lemon slice without touching it with his hands. All of that with the quickness and efficiency of someone taking medicine they hate. One and done. He spat out the lemon after a second making a comically sour face. He heard someone wolf-whistle.

Emboldened by what he had done in the past few minutes, a bit high on a mix of adrenaline, euphoria, and vodka he turned around towards Y/N and grinned.

“Satisfied?”

“Very much so,” she quipped.

He looked straight into her eyes searching for something he was embarrassed to admit to. Jealousy. He had just licked Lydia Martin's thigh, the girl he's been wanting for four years, and all he could think about was did this make Y/N jealous?

If it did, she wasn't showing it. Of course, she was the one who dared him to do this. But a very selfish part of Stiles was hoping she’d regret it.

Scott and Allison stumbled into the kitchen, still laughing about something one of them said, their clothes still wet from the impromptu pool party outside.

“Are we interrupting something?” Allison giggled.

Stiles shot up from in between Lydia’s legs so fast he felt dizzy, his face flushed and he was unable to say something that would justify the situation the two teens walked in on.

“Truth or dare, wanna join?”

Surprisingly it was Lydia who spoke up and invited them.

“We were actually looking for you to tell you we were going home. Y/N?”

He didn’t need to say anything else, which Y/N must have appreciated. Having your cousin tell everybody that you have a strict bedtime because you’ve been a wild child lately is diminishing and Y/N was just starting to make some new friends.

“Yeah, we should go, too. Stiles?”

The boy slid his hand down his neck to carefully conceal the hickey that was still pulsating. Now he had to hide that from his best friend or else he’ll take a bite out of him.

Could he pull off a scarf? No, better not.

Avoiding eye contact with Scott and Y/N as if he worried the werewolf could read his mind he found himself looking around at everyone in the group. Malia and Boyd were smirking as if they knew exactly what kind of trouble Stiles had gotten himself into. Cora was staring daggers at Y/N. She patted the girl on the shoulder and asked if they can speak for a second in private before they left.

Did Stiles miss something?

Lydia got up from the kitchen island and brought a blanket for Allison so that she doesn’t catch a cold. Funny, she didn’t seem to care that Y/N was also soaked when she walked into the living room. But it made sense since Allison and Lydia made really good friends in the short time since Allison moved to Beacon Hills.

As Cora and Y/N had their little chat, which was very heated on Cora’s part, Stiles found himself lingering close to them. Partially because he wanted to be far away from Scott, partially because he just liked Y/N’s presence so much. His behavior reminded him a little too much of a kid holding onto his mother’s skirts everywhere she goes. Stiles did not have mommy issues. And he was not projecting them unto Y/N.

“It’s gonna have consequences,” the boy overheard.

He perked his ears, etching closer to Cora, still staying behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

Cora turned around as if she heard or felt Stiles despite their distance. Cora has always been quite a weird girl, maybe she really was psychic. She looked at Stiles and then back at Y/N.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Good luck.”

read part 2 here

read part 3 here

》 a.n. This is my first dip in Teen Wolf fic and my first post on this blog. I used to be @ex-fangirl-from-hell but I couldn't interact with people due to the main blog of that account having a lot of personal information. So I just remade so I can interact with people, follow, like, reblog without fear of doxxing myself.

This is an old blog that i scrubbed clean and repurposed.

Feel free to ask to be in my tag list and interact in any way, I'm looking for reader and writer friends alike 《