For @deepestbelieverstranger.
Second moodboard for Vampire!Stiles. I noticed that the first one was loved by many, so here’s more! Enjoy ❤️
Blood drips from Jackson’s hand. Tempting. Alluring.
Stiles goes in for another bite, licks his lips and nips at the soft, taut flesh of Jackson’s neck. Drinks the dying man in until his thirst is satisfied, until he can’t hear Jackson’s heartbeat anymore.
He knows he’s fucked up the moment he comes back to himself, Jackson’s body falling limp on the ground and Lydia’s scream of rage assaulting his ears.
“Monster,” Lydia calls him, and curses him. Stiles can’t figure out if they’re the expletives kind of curse or the witch type, his brain still processing the fact that he killed Jackson. The man Lydia has loved since she was old enough to know what love meant, the man Stiles himself had approved for her.
He walks away from the scene and ends up in his castle, the solitude making him hate himself. And then. Then he comes. Derek Hale.
Prince Derek Hale is a noble man, soft and shy and beautiful in ways nobody ever was and nobody ever will, Stiles’ entire heart in his palms like Stiles wouldn’t surrender to anybody else.
Derek doesn’t know Stiles is a Vampire. A monster. But he sees Stiles fighting tears and comes to him, the moonlight coming from the windows giving Derek’s concerned gaze a glow that Stiles doesn’t deserve.
Derek is a gift that Stiles has no idea how he got ahold of.
“Stiles,” Derek asks, his arms around Stiles’ frame, a shield protecting him. But who would protect Derek from him? “Stiles, talk to me.”
Stiles pushes him away, pointedly doesn’t look at his face. “I’m a monster,”
“No, you are not,” Derek tells him, so sure and confident it makes Stiles want to die. To die again and to not come back like he has once before.
Stiles laughs and doesn’t say anything. Simply waits for Lydia to come into the ballroom—the very same room she was born in, nearly two decades ago—able to hear her footsteps from far, far away.
Derek turns to her. He thinks she’s his sister. That they’d never harm each other or each other’s. “Lydia, do you know what happened?” She’s bloody. Covered from head to toe in Jackson’s blood, as if she cradled him against her body; her cheeks are strained with tears, a waterfall amongst carnage. “Lydia, you—Jackson. Where is he.” Derek’s voice turns somber with understanding, and Stiles feels the moment his eyes land on Stiles.
Lydia’s voice is shaky as she says, “He killed him.” Stiles doesn’t look at her as she tells Derek about who he is, what he did. Doesn’t look at Derek as horror morphs his gorgeous features, turns his heart against Stiles’. Only looks at the moon and wonders why did he ever think that he could ever control his true nature.
Then Lydia says, “You love him still, don’t you?”
Stiles dares to look at Derek. Derek is looking back at him, and he—he still loves him. Despite knowing the truth.
Stiles can’t help but let out a broken, “Derek...”
Lydia sobs, small and heart-wrenching, says, “Only a monster can love a monster!” Thunder sounds outside. Furniture shakes inside as if caught in an earthquake.
And Stiles watches as Derek transforms into a veritable beast—a big, black wolf, with yellow eyes tinged with a blood-red hue.
Lydia leaves. Stiles feels sick to his stomach.
Something has pure as Love has led to Derek becoming a monster. Like him. Simply because Derek loves him.
Stiles falls down to his knees in despair, and wonders how someone like Derek can still love him when Derek trots over to him, huge paws trying to console him.
