starrishent

You know why people actually love Stiles? Because he represents every person with an anxiety disorder going out and kicking ass. He’s the kid with ADHD who solves crimes. And he still finds worth in himself even though everyone around him is some form of super special. So we may enjoy Scott’s story because it’s a power fantasy, but we enjoy Stiles’s story because it’s about an awkward teen keeping up with the crap in his life. Call it hype but I love Stiles because he gives me hope.

  • Friend: Are you reading that 'fan fiction' stuff again?
  • Me: that is literally the stupidest question I have ever been asked. I feel attacked. How dare you. Why do you hate me so?
  • Friend: *chokes* wait, so you aren't?
  • Me: *laughs hysterically* of course I am
The Reunion

Summary: Stiles needs someone hot to take to his reunion, so he can show everyone up. Cue Jordan Parrish, who eventually agrees to be his (fake) date.

Notes: Written for @inell, who wanted Stiles/Parrish and “It’s my high school reunion, and I need a hot date so I can rub in in the faces of the people who hated me.” Note: Lydia and Jackson are pretty mean in this fic, but I don’t think I made them any worse than they were in season 1. (On AO3)


“Come on, Jordan. Please?

“You’ve been asking me for a favor for a week,” Jordan says, leaning his arms heavily on his desk. “What do you want?

“I want you to be my date for my high school reunion,” Stiles says, as neutrally as possible, like this is nothing unusual.

“We’re not actually dating, so why would you need me to do that?”

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9

Teen Wolf AU - Social Media

The one where when Stiles is off at college, the Sheriff station gets a new deputy, who the Sheriff is desperately trying to set up with his son. 

Bring a Wild Man Back Home (Stiles/Parrish)

It’s still Thursday in a small part of the world, so here’s my contribution for day 6 ( How to Kiss a Boy - Stiles/male) of Shipping With Stiles Week 2017! Also, surprise - I wrote a non-Sterek fic! ;)

Bring a Wild Man Back Home | Stiles/Parrish | Explicit | 4k | Also on AO3


Stiles ran through the preserve, losing himself in the peacefulness of the early morning and the steady rhythm of his shoes pounding in the dirt. He was alone, on a seldom-used trail that was closed to the general public (and far away from the nemeton), and the weather couldn’t have been better. A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth as he thought back to his high school days, when he could barely run laps at lacrosse practice without upchucking or passing out. Oh, how he’d changed.

Without the same distractions that had plagued him through high school, Stiles had managed to get his bachelor’s in computer science in three years, then stayed at GWU for another three years to get a master’s in digital forensics.

Knowing he’d need to pass the FBI physical fitness test, but with no experience in any of the university’s D1 sports, Stiles had opted for club lacrosse and Brazilian jiu-jitsu instead, and he’d flirted his way through enough personal training sessions at the gym to learn what he needed to get fit. By the time he was ready to apply to the FBI, Stiles had been in the best shape of his life.

That, along with his impressive grades, his analytical mind, and the tentative affiliation he’d managed to forge with Scott’s dad, had helped Stiles make it through the FBI’s rigorous application and testing process. It had been rough, but he’d succeeded. Any time he’d even remotely considered giving up, Stiles had resorted to the memory of his dad openly weeping when Stiles had gotten his master’s, hugging him fiercely, barely able to choke out an I’m so proud of you.

He’d managed to mostly avoid Beacon Hills while he was in college and at the academy. It felt good to get away, to start a new life somewhere else, in a place where he wasn’t haunted by the ghosts of high school past. He’d even gotten in touch with Derek, who’d given him the number of a supernatural-savvy therapist in Rosslyn. She’d practically worked miracles for Stiles, mentally preparing him for college and beyond, and had never asked for payment. (A few years later, Derek had admitted what Stiles always suspected - that he’d covered the cost of Stiles’ sessions.)

After being assigned to the San Francisco field office, though, Stiles had run out of excuses for avoiding Beacon Hills. His work with the cyber division kept him busy, as did getting himself set up in his new apartment and getting acquainted with the city, but he could only put off the visit for so long. He made his dad promise not to tell anyone he was coming back. He wanted to ease into it, see people from his past on his own terms.

It wasn’t that he was avoiding anyone, except that he was. He didn’t particularly want to see Scott or anyone else from the McCall pack, though he knew it would have to happen at some point. Scott would smell Derek on him. Okay, and Isaac. And Jackson and Cora. Then he’d have to admit that after reconnecting with Derek, they’d become close during Stiles’ early college years. The two of them had been able to persuade the rest of Derek’s ragtag pack to return from around the globe, and they’d solidified the bond that they should’ve had in the first place.

The five of them had lived together in DC for as long as Stiles was there, and then when Stiles got his post-Quantico assignment, they’d made the cross-country trek together. They lived in the same building (which Derek bought, because Derek), but in separate apartments, in Sausalito. After all, though both of them had matured, there was still no way Stiles would be able to share a place with Jackson. He shuddered at the thought, but couldn’t help grinning about how far all of them had come.

He was almost back to the parking area when he felt that familiar tingle at the nape of his neck, the one that developed during full moon outings with the rest of the Hale pack, the one that told him he was no longer alone in the woods. Stiles fought the instinctive urge to look back over his shoulder, not wanting to give in to the underlying paranoia that came with being back in the preserve. He wasn’t that kid anymore.

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Just imagine Parrish walking into the Sheriff’s office and finding Stiles on the ground, pathetically slumped against the desk, wrist dangling from where it’s handcuffed. And he just leans against the door jam and crosses his arms, chuckling. And Stiles gives him a half-hearted glare from his position on the floor, looking rather like a kicked puppy. And Parrish laughs a little harder before saying, “Your dad told me what happened. He also told me that I was to, under no circumstances, let you out of those cuffs.” Then Stiles heaves a sigh, trying to get more comfortable, cause he’s actually really tired, now that their back home and the adrenaline is wearing off, and says, “I’m seriously starving here, dude.” Parrish gives him a considering look before pushing off the door jam and leaving the office and Stiles kinda wants to cry a little because he really is hungry but then Parrish is walking back into the office, unwrapping an sandwich as he crouches in front of Stiles. “Here,” Parrish says while handing the sandwich out to Stiles. Stiles grabs it with his free hand and immediately takes a huge bite out of it. He moans around the food in his mouth, eyes falling closed like this is the best thing he’s ever experienced. And Parrish has to lean back on his haunches a bit, trying to put more distance between himself and the tempting sight before him. When Stiles finally swallows the food in his mouth, he mutters, “I knew I liked you.” Parrish is really glad Stiles still has his eyes closed, head resting against the desk, so he can’t see the blush spreading across his cheeks.