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They’re both more frantic this time, and Derek hopes it’s in part because Stiles has been thinking about him just as much as Derek’s been thinking of Stiles. He doesn’t want it just to be because they’re drunk, or because the party’s mostly a bust. And, if it is, he’s determined to make it about him. He wants Stiles to remember him.
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19 Jun 2026
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“And this is it?” he points at the first girl. “I saw you in first period, you barely bothered to catch any of the balls you were tossed. I’m pretty sure you spent more time on your cell.”
The girl rolls her eyes, and looks completely unashamed of the fact she had her phone out in class. Derek knows Finstock would have stepped on it.
“And you,” he points at the second girl, taller and with eyes that meet Derek’s coolly. “You can’t throw anything worth half a damn. And what are you,” he points at the boy, trying not to look him in the eye, and failing. “A hundred and fifty pounds wet?”
The boy smirks at him, and Derek looks resolutely away. He’s now desperately trying not to picture him wet.
"I can't work with this."
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18 Jun 2026
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The ashes flow between his fingers like warm, fine sand on a summer’s day. There’s the smell of the sea, and the sound of waves, the sun piercing his eyelids. The warmth of a hug and bubbling laughter. A rush of adrenaline then the crash of a wave. He feels heavy, like his bones are made of lead. His lungs, as hard and unyielding as metal, stop him from breathing. His heart skips three beats in a row and he’s lost between panic and a heart attack. He feels pins and needles over his limbs, like thousands of ants consuming his flesh. And then there’s nothing for a long while.
The sound of the wind is the first to return, then the crickets, then the frantic, loud beating of Stiles’ heart. He falls to his knees with tears running down his face, like grief and confusion. Like something reached inside him and took from it a little shard of his soul. He manages to get on all fours before being sick on the forest ground. He wipes his mouth, the tears from his eyes and the sweat from his brow with shaky hands and tries to stand. He wobbles, but stays up, then he looks around. The Nemeton is dark and rotten. On top of it lies Derek’s naked form.
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Bookmarked by L_Pads
17 Jun 2026
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When you have chemistry, all you need is one other thing: timing.
But timing is a bitch.
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Bookmarked by L_Pads
17 Jun 2026
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Stiles Stilinski is the kind of loud-mouthed, sarcastic asshole that Derek wants to punch. Or seduce. He's not sure but he'll figure it out eventually.
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17 Jun 2026