4 Works in Stiles Stilinski Works Too Hard
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
29 Jan 2019
“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth. The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles. Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is.
“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles, Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal. He’s still not convinced any of this is real.
Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it.
- Part 5 of Sterek Shorts
This is the sequel to The Vow:
Or the fic where the more and more intimate Derek gets with his husband, the sicker and sicker he becomes. Because now with Malia and Scott married, and Derek married to a human, where is the need for an alpha werewolf? And an alpha without a pack is a lone wolf, and Lone wolves never survive:
"Derek?" His voice carefully whispered, knowing his werewolf ears might have been extra sensitive with all the pressure from retching out his insides. Stiles' hand shied away from his significant other's brawny one, watching the IV trail into his vein.
The man couldn't muster the strength to speak, only slightly glancing his ice-blue eyes towards Stiles.
And for the first time in forever, Stiles can see the marks, he can see the physical damage protruding the wolf's skin. It hurt to see Derek in that condition more than the wolfsbane stung his own system.
"It's me. Isn't?" Harsh whispers and trembles threatened his voice, slight tears welling in his eyes. "I'm making you sick."
- Part 2 of Til' Death Do us Part
Working at the Continental SF sucks.
Well, fine, it doesn’t actually suck. Stiles gets to live rent-free in a glamorous hotel with every possible legal luxury plus a ton of illegal ones, high-rolling it as only somebody deeply embedded in the shadowy, secretive, dangerous world of assassins and hitmen can be. He’s not going to pretend it isn’t cool as fuck, because it is. Cool.
It’s also full of a lot of late nights where he has to assess stains of dubious to regretfully certain origins and make a call about whether it’s even worth trying to steam-clean that or whether they’re just going to have to strip the carpet and redo the whole room. Sure, yeah, mercs prepay. They’re obliging like that, and he never has to worry about cashflow issues. But they’re still just—just messy.
Note: No John Wick characters show up, although some are mentioned. I'm just using the setting.
They should've eloped. It had to be better than their mothers conspiring and planning their wedding before they'd even had their first kiss, right?