Any chance you could update the weed/recreational weed tag? I'm on mobile so sorry if it's been asked recently
here you go!
Written from a prompt I found on tumblr you can find here.
Basically, a 21 Jump Street meets Teen Wolf meets shadowy government agency.
It was nearly the end of his second year living with a psychic who liked to dabble in some witchcraft and a werewolf from a southern Californian werewolf who was baked more often than not.
And Derek, who’d become somewhat of an unofficial fourth roommate.
Stiles has a bandage slung under his chin like a disembodied helmet strap when Derek first meets him. It’s complemented by a chipped front tooth and a scrape of road rash across his cheek.
Stiles and Derek sit in the Jeep, waiting for Scott to return. Derek has a baggie.
you know me, i had plans (but they just disappeared) by wolfiery (asswords) (1/1 | 8,257 | R)
“Stiles,” Erica chimes brightly, with a sharp edge to her red-painted grin that makes him feel a prickle of concern. This was a catwoman here, he could tell. “We’ve been telling Derek that he can’t expect to go through his whole life wearing a cap and a basic t-shirt like a classic pro-sport cliché. What do you think?”
Instead of answering right away, he turns to Derek on his right and tries to quickly look him over, but then he sees the way Derek’s tan forearms have veins and the baby blue shirt stands out against his skin. The cap is showing his big ears and highlights his dark eyelashes under the hood and so to him, he’s pretty sure the guy is too fucking beautiful. He swallows quickly and looks back to both of them, quickly answering, “He looks fine.”
“…I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you over the past year and I was devastated when you left with Cora, because I didn’t think you were ever going to come back—I mean why should you?! But you came for me when I needed someone so badly, and you were so nice to me, and I didn’t plan to kiss you and I panicked, and… And then I realized way, way later, that you kissed me back—why did you do that?”
“When I said I had people here that I wanted more than my sister, I was talking about you…“
“I thought we could be friends,” Derek offers, to which Stiles gets an odd smile on his face.
“Friends,” he repeats, an odd inflection.
Stiles laughs, just barely. It’s more of an exhalation of breath than it is genuine mirth or anything else, and then he smiles. “I’m pretty good at friends,” he says with a tilt to his head, and Derek clears his throat and has to look away.