“Be a Werewolf…”

“𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟.”

[dcangel]

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𝐘’𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐯𝐲

BULLETIN (4)

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Disclaimer — I have bot been posting fics recently, but I’m still active almost daily<3

!!𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! — Some content on this page is NSFW; either explicit or dark/mature themes.

Favorites/Recents —

•Stiles’!World

•Luke’s!World

Talk you through it, Big boy, New bra, Luke castellan.

[dcangel]

Heh… hey guys..! I lowkey have no excuses, I just lost all interest and motivation for writing and got consumed with my life. BUT I promise if I ever write again (don’t hold me to it) it’ll be even better because I got a boyfriend and my writing will be 1 million percent accurate now iykyk

[dcangel]

I’ve come from the depths of the earth to tell you that Jeremy Gilbert and stiles stilinski are the same person and I need them both

[dcangel]

SISTER— S.S.

For about a year, Stiles had a sister. He still does, but only the bond remains.

cw; angst, depression, survivor's guilt, no smut, new girl!reader, reader has a crush on stiles. (lowk a yap sesh) 1.9k words

A boy smiled at you from across the room. You’d seen him in your history and chemistry class, which was ironic since you didn’t have any of that with him or his odd friends. He and another boy took turns following each other around like lost puppies— not in the romantic sense. You learned the first boy’s name to be "Stiles" due to the overwhelming warnings and threats from irritated teachers constantly scolding the boy. It was worse when he was with his friends, specifically the boy named Scott.

Scott, you noticed, seemed to have a look of longing hidden behind deep brown irises. His smile never picked up unless others prompted it, and he’d stare off at this tiny ripped piece of paper he would later stow away in his wallet.

Months faded behind your eyes, memories were made, and tears even fell, but you never asked why Scott sometimes looked at his girlfriend, Kira, like he wished her to be someone else or why Stiles sometimes couldn't look at Scott. Those two occurrences were always connected. When heartache would fill Scott's eyes, guilt would flood into Stiles's— but both boys shared grief.

Stiles would endlessly pace around his room, hand on his jaw and white pencil between his fingers. Messy scribbles and smudged lines cluttered his crime/suspect board. Just like his father, stiles was, anyone could see that. A huff here, a frustrated sigh there— his fingers would snap, and he'd swear he figured it out this time, but the lines never met their dots. Stiles told you about a time months ago when walls in his room were covered with pictures and clippings of articles, each connected by different colored strings. Lydia would argue that he only used red, which you later found stood for 'unsolved.'

Lydia was almost the same as the boys— green eyes drifting from her schoolwork and around the room frantically. 'I hear voices,' she would tell you, 'Voices from the past.' Of course, your first thought was that she's insane. What sane person hears whispering voices? Although when you were told the history of your friends and Beacon Hills, you toyed with the notion each of them was a little insane— but rightfully so.

As your friends took turns explaining their own supernatural abilities over school lunch, you turned to the last boy, which you were quite fond of. Stiles. His jaw flapped like a fish's, his chocolate eyes scattering around. He looked to Scott, and at first, you assumed it was Stiles's supernatural instinct to look at his Alpha friend, but when he started to speak, the words didn't stop. He threw out words that didn't go together in an attempt to tell you that he was not, in fact, supernatural like those surrounding you.

'I was, uh... I- How do I-?' He abruptly shut his mouth, his lips pressed to a thin line, not that you were looking at how they moved even when he struggled to push words passed them. He did manage to force a hefty sigh through his nose, though. 'It was an accident- Well, I mean, obviously — Not that you would know —' He shook his head before continuing, but you took note of how the boy couldn't finish a thought without another one barging in. 'I was... possessed by this spirit — evil spirit — who just, uh, well, it brought, y'know... chaos, strife, and pain upon us all, and...' You caught his eyes glance over to Scott, whose gaze was glued to the table. 'Yeah. Yeah, that's it. A lot of people got hurt. Seriously hurt.'

'Some died.' That voice came from Lydia, her face matching Scott's. You had no reason to question if someone close to the group was killed, you didn't know any better. Everything was new to you. Some days, you regretted not asking 'who?'

A man simply called 'Argent' had been inadvertently introduced to you via Stiles and Scott, pondering if he was needed in a new turn of events. 'Something is always going on in this town,' They explained. 'He was a hunter, but he helps us now.' And in your mind, with how little knowledge you held of this new world, you didn't question how they came to know this man.

Your first time meeting him was spontaneous. Stiles had driven you guys to meet Scott at the man's apartment. When the elevator opened and the door creaked with age, boxes caught your eye first, then Argent. His hair was greying, eyes shining with firmness but glossed over with a sense of loss. You've learned it's a look he permanently wears. You were just tagging along, really, following close behind Stiles because you were in a stranger's house, and the boy was your anchor. You weren't equipped with special abilities or senses like your friends, but he kept you tethered to your sanity. You two were the only ones of your friends to be perfectly ordinary humans, and that came with a bond you hoped he thought was special.

You let your eyes wander like they were off-leash animals. Not rabid ones, just curious ones. You often didn't allow yourself to peek around in fear of what you might find. This isn't your world; don't get more involved than you need to. Today, you decided this man was safe. A picture frame sat on Argent's desk the four of you were huddled around. Scott was busy pleading for one last mission before the man moved away for good. Argent was comfortably settled in his position of involvement: none. You could've fully honed in on their conversation and the threats this town faced without someone to stop them, but you were more attuned to the three smiling faces behind the broken glass of a picture frame. Argent, and two women. One had red, short, spiky hair, while the other wore her long, dark brown curls loose with a purple headband. The brunette had deep dimples, long lashes that made you a little jealous, and a brightness you could feel through the glass. She certainly lit up any room she walked in.

You studied what you assumed to be Argent's family, and you wondered why you hadn't seen the brunette around school. She looked young enough to be a high school student, but maybe it was just good genetics.

An elbow in your side broke you free of those thoughts, your curiosities leaving your mind until you're reminded of them days or weeks later. Stiles told you they're ready to head out, and you look to the older man, offering a smile as thanks for his time. He nods at you three, and you leave without a second thought of the two women.

Later in the week, you find yourself at Stiles's house for the sixth time in four days. He's pacing, muttering to himself. You're flat on your back on his bed with your knees up, shoes long disregarded by the front door, picking at your nails. Stiles was always the first one you went to whenever you'd get a fresh set or have them painted. You probably should be going to Lydia since she changes nails like she changes outfits— which most likely costs more than you have in your bank account— but you wished Stiles would react the same way. Sometimes, if the designs were intricate enough, Stiles would grab your hand and bring your fingers closer to his face so he could truly appreciate the amount of detail and dedication. He even paid for your nails once.

A folded scrap of newspaper pinned to his old bulletin board pulled you from your reminiscence. Your stomach softly collided with his jersey sheets when you rolled over to get a proper look— as best you could for the distance, at least. There was no use trying to read the finely printed words distorted by shadows and creases of the old paper, but it was more so the corner of a photograph peeking out behind it that drew you in. You shifted further toward the end of his bed, your neck bending at all sorts of angles in a better attempt at seeing the full photo. Eventually, you huffed in defeat and stood up, Stiles barely showed signs of acknowledgment. A few silent shuffles later, you reached out and touched the bent newspaper, peeling it back to reveal a thumbtack with a red string tied to the handle stuck in the corner of a picture. A picture of the same brown-haired girl you'd completely forgotten about at Argent's house.

You flipped back to the news scrap and skimmed over the text, but it had no relevance to the girl, only mentioning a warrant for an arrest which you immediately recognized as the arsonist, Kate. You recalled briefly hearing her name being mentioned when you went to Argent's house and how she was his sister. You've seen pictures of her online, and this girl wasn't her, she couldn't have been. She looked sweet, her eyes full of life and warmth, something a murderer like Kate couldn't even dream of possessing.

Your first thought was that maybe this girl was Stiles's sister, but that couldn't have made sense because there was also a photo of the girl and a red-haired woman at Argent's house, and there's the fact that her photo is one of the few that remain on Stiles's wrecked corkboard. Unless she was adopted? Maybe the sheriff decided it was too much to take care of two children alone after his wife passed. Argent and the sheriff already seemed to have history, so it was entirely possible except you knew the sheriff would never even think of such a thing.

"I didn't know you have a sister." You felt the words spilling before you even had a chance to rethink your deduction.

The pacing stopped, a pencil clacked against metal. "Huh?"

Suddenly you felt stupid for snooping, the guilt sinking in when you started to speak. "Yeah, this girl here. She— Are you guys related?" You pointed to her photo, comforting eyes and a bright smile staring back at you.

A floorboard cracked, and the shadow on the bulletin board grew as Stiles got closer. You turned to him just in time to catch his eyes connect with her photo. His jaw opened, but there were no words to fill the empty space. You could tell by the way his eyes briefly squeezed shut that her face brought bad memories to light. Maybe she was an ex of his? You truly hoped not since that would mean he's not over her if her picture is still in his room.

"That's- She's-" A sigh of frustration. "Her name is Allison." His eyes dropped, and the guilt he spoke to Scott with re-entered his voice. You hadn't considered the possibility of it being a sensitive subject, and you'd do anything to keep Stiles from being upset with you, but before you had a chance to tell the boy to forget it, Stiles was on the move again.

His hand ran up his forehead, his fingers rubbing at the creases before carding through his hair. "She was Scott's girlfriend, you would've probably loved her." Stiles finally looked up at you for what was probably the first time tonight. "She sacrificed herself to help Scott save me. She shouldn't have... shouldn't've died." You picked up on how he was referring to the time he was possessed by the Nogitsune. His eyes carried so much grief, guilt, and loss. How could a boy so young bear more trauma than most ever would? Still, Stiles read the persistent curiosity in your eyes. "She was my sister, but we're not related."

[dcangel]

just scheduled the sad fic to post for 9am bc I will NOT be waking up that early

[dcangel]

I’m so sorry I disappeared for over a month (I didn’t even realize it was that bad until I typed it) but I’ve been active everyday to check my notifications and my favorite accounts, I just haven’t posted. A lot has happened in the past month including: going on vacation, my dog dying on my birthday, and the end of a situationship that took a fat toll on me! (bonus: I have a job interview tomorrow)

I’ve had so many ideas for fics but literally ZERO motivation but I just started writing a fic that probably will be depressing/angsty and not really my normal stiles x reader type of work. I’ve been rewatching teen wolf as well so I’m guessing you’ll be able to tell which season I just finished if I ever get to publishing it.

but thank you to everyone who sent requests in my inbox bc I will definitely get around to those at some point, I just don’t know when<3

[dcangel]

So my friends and I almost got kidnapped/jumped at a park by people with a truck blasting this song today!

[dcangel]

dot be shy, drop the mitch rapp wp fic

Yall I’m so sorry I haven’t been answering any asks or posting recently I’m just burnt out

BUT ANYWAYS!! I started writing that fic like last summer and then cranked out three long ass chapters and somehow the third one got deleted, and when I went to go back and read them they were cringy (not too bad but not up to my standards) so I took them down and now they’re being redone so I desperately need to work on those. The fic is called “Blue Jeans | Mitch Rapp” and I switched it up to not be a x y/n/reader story because I feel like those are hard to write since a lot of people say things like “I’d never wear that” or “I’d never say/do that” so I made and OC which is also gonna take time to write her personality into it. It’s also linked to a second account I have on tumblr so if any of you guys find it don’t mind that lol. Idk when the first chapter will be out because I’ve had literally no motivation to write at all except occasionally writing like 100-200 words on a separate wp story, but the motivation still sucks. Anyways thank you for still sending in asks and I promise that this fic will be out someday I just don’t know when<3

[dcangel]

Can we talk about how an intern with the literal FBI (stiles) managed to talk them into letting him go on a mission to search and possibly kill this supposedly dangerous murderer guy (derek)

ALL FOR STILES TO SOMEHOW GET SHOT IN THE TOE AND MANAGE TO STEAL DEREK AWAY FROM GETTING CAUGHT AND LIKE MAKE HIM NOT A SUSPECT ANYMORE??

[dcangel]

I’m barking!!?? Hello??

[dcangel]

“Apologize. Say that you’re sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for six years.” That shit makes me feel bad for Peter hale😕

[dcangel]

Stiles stilinski and sam witwicky have the same type of energy in my mind

[dirtbagdefender]

[dcangel]

In the mood to write the most horrendously depressing shit<3

[dcangel]

stiles would EAT as spiderman

[dcangel]

one thing about stiles is that he absolutely cannot stay quiet when he cums, even if it’s in the worst situation possible. he could be home alone, or it could be late at night— either way, he’s jerking off to the explicit picture you sent him last week that he still has yet to get over. he can’t muffle any soft grunts or hums even when his mouth is closed. especially not when you’re letting him fuck you. his intentions when resting on top of you were innocent, perfectly content with being your weighted blanket. but something quite literally rubbed him the wrong way, and you felt it moments later. how could you say no to some not-so-innocent cockwarming? after all, Noah was in the dining room mulling over another case of a slashed-up body in the woods. clothes weren’t removed, just adjusted to allow his cock to slip out of his plaid sweatpants and into the small gap you left him between your drawn-down waistband and your cunt. it truly didn’t take long for vibrations of lost hums and whimpers to be felt against your neck as he allowed his hips to work lazily; his cock sliding in and out easily thanks to your building wetness. you really didn’t expect or want more from him, you just wanted him to please himself as you relished in his struggles to stay silent.

it was hard to keep stiles quiet, especially with the way the house fell silent after his dad drank himself to sleep, and there was no absent-minded muttering and mumbling to drown of the echoes of stiles’s growing whines. it was even harder when you felt warmth spill inside you and his hips still twitched as if one orgasm wasn’t enough. he was doing it to himself. grateful praises and broken whimpers tumbled from his lips that languidly tried attaching to your neck, and you didn’t even attempt to quiet him down. it would’ve been a futile effort anyway, especially with the way he absently began spewing mumbled begs against your neck to just let him be loud— to let him have his moment to openly relish in the feeling of you. and who were you to say no to your boy who took it upon himself to overwork his recently neglected body?

[dcangel]

To anyone who’s sent in anonymous asks/requests for smuts, I’m so sorry I haven’t seen/responded😭 I don’t get notifications for when I get anything in my inbox, and I don’t check often