Use Your Words “Oh my god! You’re here. In a grocery store. Shopping,” Stiles cackled with glee. Derek was instantly annoyed, “I do eat you know.” “Yeah, but I always assumed you just hunted down Thumper or whatever,” Stiles waved a hand. Derek rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure that Scott and Stiles would never see him as an actual person. With feelings. He just turned to walk away....
Stiles grabbed onto college as a way to get out of the supernatural. He loved Scott and the pack. He did. He didn’t love the constant danger. When it all had started, it seemed like an adventure. Sort of. It obviously had gotten real very quickly. He’d thrown himself into it because he needed to be there for Scott. Because it was the right thing to do. He’d spent his last years of high school fighting....
1 Stiles almost groans when he spots the werewolf three rows away in his freshman English class. For the first time, it isn’t because he’s being forced to take freshman English. No. This groan is because there’s a werewolf sitting three rows away. He’d gone to college to get away from the supernatural. Okay. He can do this. There is no reason for the girl to pay him any attention. He’d taken at least ten showers in the past few days in the hopes of scrubbing the stench of werewolf off of him....
Not long after Scott got bitten, fell in love, became a lacrosse superstar, and gained popularity, Stiles called him the ‘hot girl’. It had been a joke. It isn’t funny anymore. See… Everyone likes to think of themselves as the protagonists of their own story. If your life is a book then you’re the main character, right? Right? Stiles thinks that this should be true. Even if your life is mundane and boring, you’re still the main character....
Stiles runs away on a perfectly ordinary day. He leaves a note for his father: I want to live. Sorry. It’s a perfectly ordinary day when Mischief returns to Beacon Hills. Mischief knows no one expected him to come to his dad’s funeral. He’s the kid who ran away. Broke his dad’s heart. The heartbreak is what really killed him, they say. He stands tall. Ignores the whispering. Doesn’t give a eulogy....
Stiles groaned as he sat up in bed. He was in pain. Then again, he was almost always in pain. Today seemed like a five, so not too bad. He wouldn’t need one of the percocets sitting on his nightstand. Small victories, he supposes. He was, however, dizzy. Too dizzy. He glares at his walker, because of course today would be a walker day. Not like he’d planned on running a few errands....