I Will Run You Like A Thread (Fem!Stiles x Derek)

Maybe I just wanna be yours

If Stiles could go back in time to freshman year and tell herself that not only would she actually manage to make it through high school without getting expelled, arrested, maimed, or murdered, but that she would also be happy (and engaged to an absolute smoke-show of a fiance) when she graduated, she would have laughed in her own fucking face. Kicked herself in the non-existent balls for being a big, fat fucking liar. To be fair, if she could go back, she definitely, probably would have also let it slip that werewolves were a thing. Would probably have solved a lot of problems right from the beginning. But then again, all that causality bullshit might've fucked everything up and she wouldn't have Derek.

And the thought of not having Derek makes her feel like she's got an elephant sitting on her chest.

"Stilinski– god, I don't even know how to say that –"

"We just refer to her as Stiles, sir..."

"Stilinski, Stiles?"

"Stiles Stilinski"

"Stilinski!"

Somebody elbows her hard in the ribs, and Stiles just about falls off her chair. Thanks to Scott's quick reflexes (she's never been so grateful for alphabetical order), he grabs her by the waist and she avoids a total face-plant as she stumbles to her feet and makes her way down the aisle to the podium. There is, unfortunately, nobody there to stop her from tripping up the stairs. Stiles is almost one hundred percent sure that she sees some of her teachers actually high-fiving each other at the real-life, visual confirmation that she will never step foot in this place again (which, rude). Except maybe to, you know, go inside her werewolf fiance's creepy family vault of creepy supernatural relics or something.

At least it's finally over, she thinks, as they all get up and head out onto the lacrosse field where her father and Derek are waiting. She hadn't even wanted to go to the dumb ceremony in the first place. Couldn't have cared less about it actually, but it was important to her dad, right of passage, kodak moment and all that bull. And it had been weirdly important to Derek, who was like practically geriatric most days ("I'm not old, Stiles. I'm 26, jesus.") so she shouldn't have been so surprised that when she suggested skipping it, he got all grumpy-faced about her not having enough normal high school experiences. He'd even pulled the whole I didn't get to go to my graduation, Stiles thing,and it was so not cool of him to play the dead family card. But even Derek sunk to her level and played dirty sometimes. Or, a lot of the times, depending on the context, Stiles thinks to herself, blushing violently. She doesn't get a chance to really delve into the fantasy though, because she just about jumps out of her skin when strong arms come up behind her and grab her by the hips, lifting her up in the air with a truly embarrassing amount of ease.

Familiar lips and warm breath tickle her ear, and Stiles shivers, her body responding the way it always does to him, all instinct by this point. "That's what you were thinking about? Really?" Derek murmurs. She doesn't even have to look at him to know that he's quirking one of those ridiculous eyebrows at her. "Is that seriously why they had to call your name like a thousand times?"

Okay, sure, he can smell what she's thinking about now, but before that she'd been actually trying to be good. Sort of.

"No, I was thinking about time travel, nosey," Stiles sticks out her tongue and tries to wriggle out of his arms. "Put me down, jerk."

"Are you sure you don't need Derek to carry you?" Her dad's appeared with the dreaded camcorder that Stiles has been dodging all day, so she quickly covers her face."Since walking is apparently the one class you didn't pass while you were here."