Stiles is a Mikaelson(Rewritten)

Chapter 44

Previously on

Stiles is a Mikaelson

Stiles's Pov

I laughed, squeezing his hand. "You're always ready, aren't you?"

He smirked. "I've got to be. I've got a family to take care of."

I leaned into him, feeling the weight of the day melt away. Whatever the future held—whatever challenges we would face, with more kids or just the three we had—I knew one thing for sure: as long as we were together, we could face anything.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles's Pov

February 5th, 2020

The days had started blending together in the best kind of way—a mix of work, family chaos, and quiet moments with Damon after the triplets finally went to bed. Somehow, it was already February, and the triplets were less than four months away from their fourth birthday. Every time I thought about it, I felt a mixture of pride and disbelief. It felt like just yesterday Damon and I were bringing them home, tiny bundles that seemed too fragile to exist in this big, crazy world.

Now? They were little whirlwinds of energy and personality. Every day was an adventure.

The morning started like most others in the Stilinski-Salvatore household: loud, messy, and filled with laughter. Damon had taken over breakfast duty, which meant pancakes shaped like stars, dinosaurs, and one that vaguely resembled a bat—a tribute to his vampire heritage, no doubt.

"Eat up, munchkins," Damon said, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of Cayley, who was busy telling Asher that she was going to be "the fastest princess ever" when she turned four.

"You can't be the fastest," Asher countered, crossing his arms and looking very serious. "I'm the fastest."

"No, you're a ninja," Henry pointed out between bites of his pancake. "You said so yesterday."

"I can be both!" Asher declared, puffing out his chest.

"Alright, alright," I interrupted, sitting down with my own plate. "You can all be fast. No need to fight over it."

Cayley looked up at me, her big brown eyes wide. "Even you, Daddy?"

I grinned. "Even me."

Damon snorted from the stove, flipping another pancake. "Pretty sure you'd come in dead last, Stiles. Let's not set unrealistic expectations for the kids."

"Excuse me," I said, feigning offense. "I'm faster than I look."

"Sure you are," Damon teased, setting a pancake on my plate with a smirk. "Eat up, Speed Racer."

The triplets giggled at our banter, their earlier argument forgotten. Moments like this—simple, mundane, and full of love—were my favorite.

After breakfast, the triplets went outside to play while Damon and I cleaned up the kitchen. It was one of those rare mornings where everything felt calm, even with three nearly four-year-olds running around.

"So," Damon said, leaning against the counter as I rinsed off plates. "Have you thought about what we're doing for their birthday this year?"

"Every day," I admitted. "I still can't believe they're going to be four. Feels like they were just born."

Damon smiled softly, his eyes distant for a moment. "They've grown so much. It's wild."

"They have," I agreed, setting a plate on the drying rack. "And I want to make this birthday special. I mean, they're old enough now to actually remember it, right? We should do something big."