Le notes: Fellow StilesCora fans, fear not, I am back again with another oneshot. It's very AU, and was written after my freak out (thanks to episode 3x10) because seriously…a CPR kiss…that was adorable! This fic isn't really heavy on the canon plotline by the way. It's just a result of all of my feels! Disclaimer: characters are not mine and the lyrics are from Boys Like Girls.

Summary: You see, the problem here is that he knows Lydia Martin's favorite color and her favorite thing to eat. But he also knows all about how hard Cora likes to kiss (with a bit of bite), and he also knows about that special spot below her hip bone that makes her breath hitch every time he would let his fingers dance over it. —-StilesCora, AU



do you know that your love
(is the sweetest sin)?


you caught me off-guard,
now i'm running and screaming

/ / /

Stiles Stillinski isn't too proud to admit that he had lost his virginity to The Big Bad Wolf's younger sister.

However, since Stiles is the only semi-normal being amongst his group of friends (who are actually composed of strong werewolves, skilled archers and perhaps even, a sort-of genius psychic), he assumes that he himself, being the kind-of powerless Robin to everyone's Batman, really doesn't have much to be proud of anyway.

And to top it all off, the moment isn't even remotely close to being romantic, at all. It's quick and eager, with her hovering over him for what seems like ages. But she's actually a tease (he never would have guessed that) and a good one too. Either way, they end up settling for sex in the back of his jeep, whilst cutting health class, and in the left-hand side of the school parking lot.

He will remember her as a blur, of curved lines on marble skin, a predator's eyes (glowing yellow) and bared teeth (extending in to fangs), claws and nails digging in to his back, and the sting of it all still ever-present the very next day.

He can't say that he hadn't enjoyed it; he'd be lying if he did. Yet, the fact that she had been the type of girl to kiss someone then punch them in the face, only moments later, didn't exactly make the situation any better.

Stiles can't even say that he remembers how the entire fling even began. And he thinks that maybe, his mind's doing that on purpose. Because really, all he can seriously recall clearly is the arch of her back, the way she had whispered his name in to his ear, his own heart beating like a drumming song, and the look on her face when he had pressed inside of her.

He starts avoiding her soon afterwards, because not only would things be super awkward, but he doubts that she'll ever attempt to make it seem like she had initiated the whole situation. However, everything starts to go awry about a week later, when he sees Cora freaking Hale walking down the hallways of his school.


/ / /

This just couldn't be.

The universe must be playing a practical joke on him.

"Hey," she releases, as his immediate instinct is not to run, but to grab her by the shoulders and pull her in to a secluded corner of the school. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She shouts this time, tearing herself off of him in a quick manner.

Desperately, he tries his best to get his mind off of the feel of her bare skin against his and puts all his efforts in to focusing himself on his sentence making abilities. And yet, she was the one who had some explaining to do. "What the hell am I doing?" He simply repeats, avoiding her dark eyes. "I should be asking you what the hell you think you're doing, at my school, only about a week after we just—" he stops in mid-sentence before uttering a little too much.

His cheeks flush and immediately, Stiles becomes very nervous.

Cora rolls her eyes. "We fucked." She says, with so much ease. "What?" She asks, as he remains completely and utterly silent. "Are you seriously going to make this a big deal now?" She dares to question.

Stiles only widens his eyes. Of course it was a big deal, it was my first time! He would say, if she didn't always end up having the upper-hand.

"Stiles," she then sighs, holding her forehead as a sign of stress. "We just fucked okay? Just…just get over it!"

"How am I supposed to get over anything when a walking reminder of it all has miraculously appeared at my school?" He points to her then, and she swears that she might rip his finger right off. If only he hadn't looked a little too adorable when he's attempting to be serious.

"I'm seventeen Stiles," she tells him. "And last I checked, most normal seventeen year old girls attend highschool."

Now, it's his turn to rolls his eyes. Her statement is so ironic and he could even prove it if he had to. Cora Hale would be the last girl that he would ever consider as 'normal'.

"Well," she says, trying to pry his hands off of her. "Are you going to let me get to my class or not?" She questions and he simply answers her by letting her go.

He wonders what in God's name she's thinking of when, not only does she kick his ankle as punishment for dragging her across the hall against her will, but she also sticks her tongue out at him as if she's five years old or something.

Stiles sighs, realizing that he had gotten himself in to quite the pickle by sleeping with a Hale.


/ / /

A few days later, they get paired up for a biology assignment together.

Stiles argues with his teacher for as long as he can. It's pretty safe to say that his plan ends up backfiring on him. And they end up working at his house because the last thing Stiles needs is a face-to-face confrontation with Derek Hale. The timing would be horrible and he'd be wearing his hey-i-just-fucked-your-sister-hope-you-don't-kill- me face. So in other words, Stiles just didn't want to make things even worse for himself.

His own house would be his best (if not is safest) bet.

"You're staring," Cora tells him, while scribbling down a few notes on paper and trying to look elusive to his lingering eyes.

"What?" Stiles hadn't really realized that he was letting his pupils trail along the length of her bare legs. "I am not." He argues, looking away from her.

"Yes you are." She then meets his gaze. And unintentionally, the air between them starts to feel so much heavier. "Well, you were." She rephrases when he decides that she's finally caught him. "Do you always fidget like this when you're nervous?" Cora suddenly questions him and Stiles can't help but raise a brow.

He then realizes exactly how jittery he is. "Sometimes," he simply mutters, thinking that lying to her, when she's clearly witnessed him fidget, would be utterly useless.

"Sometimes? You know, you were acting exactly like this that time we were in the back of your jeep and—"

"Can you stop bringing that up?"

The room is silent at this moment. She wonders if he's really ashamed of it all. After all, he didn't need to get so defensive. She was only teasing him. Cora was aware that it would never amount to anything serious anyway. Since the only girl Stiles ever had eyes for was a certain long-legged, strawberry-blond haired, and green-eyed queen bee.

You see, the problem here is that he knows Lydia Martin's favorite color and her favorite thing to eat. But he also knows all about how hard Cora likes to kiss (with a bit of bite), and he also knows about that special spot below her hip bone that makes her breath hitch every time he would let his fingers dance over it.

This all becomes a little too over-bearing for him because, even though he was no longer a virgin, he was still pretty inexperienced and fantasizing about having sex with Cora Hale wasn't exactly helping his case.

And then, without any warning signals, the woman of the hour grabs him by the collar and pulls him close.

"There's a reason why I keep bringing it up," she whispers. It's too late when he finally gets what she means. Oh, she's horny, he should think and instead, what comes to his mind is the fact that she liked to make fun of him.

Perhaps, it's time he turned the tables on her. "Oh really?" Stiles begins, trying to compose himself while her tug on his collar intensifies. "And why's that?" He questions, offering her a weak grin.

She rolls her eyes, loosening her grip on him, only to turn her face just the slightest bit to the right. Don't make me say it, she would tell him, if they hadn't ended up locking lips just a second later. Soon enough, they're kissing and kissing, and her clothes come off at the speed of light. She has him shaky and nervous (just like the last time) but when she meets his gaze (with nothing but stars in her eyes) he takes charge and thrusts inside of her.

She moans his name in to his ear, like a six-lettered and one worded oath.

Suddenly, the image of Lydia Martin's long legs, green eyes, and strawberry-blonde hairs are all replaced by Cora Hale's breathy and shaky voice, the heat of her thighs, and the feel of her skin.


/ / /

Scott finds him a few days later, out on the terrace, having lunch. He doesn't know why his best friend has been avoiding him like he's a disease. And this time, it's no different. When Scott approaches him, Stiles's immediate reaction is to walk away.

"Stiles wait—"

Ignore him, he tells himself, just ignore him.


Just keep walking, he continues, Scott will tire himself out, eventually.

"Dude, can you just—"

Scott then grabs him by the shoulder and pulls his best friend beside him. He hears Stiles mumble and complain about how Scott is always taking advantage of him with his wolf powers and all. And he goes on and on until Scott decides to cut him off.

"I can smell her on you, you know?" He tells him.

Stiles, quite possibly, holds the world record for the world's worst pokerface. "What?" He releases, raising his brows. "I swear Scott; I have no idea what you're talking about." He fakes and of course, his best friend sees right through him.

"Look man," Scott begins, placing a helpful hand on Stiles's shoulder. "You can fuck whomever you want but," he breathes in, "if Derek finds out then, you're not exactly—"

Stiles shakes his head continuously. "I'm not fucking anyone!" He angrily releases, walking away.

Later, he'll pass by Cora in the hallways and act like he hasn't even caught a glimpse her long brown hairs (like bits of chocolate on a child's tongue) and the stark whiteness of her skin (reminding him of winter's first snowfall).


/ / /

He walks in on Lydia and Aiden, making out in a vacant class room, about a week later.

They stop immediately, and she's all wide-eyed as she untangles her legs from Aiden's waist. Stiles doesn't even offer her the chance to talk as he simply exits the room, mumbling an oh, sorry. He thought that perhaps, he was getting over his crush on her. However, the pain in his chest proved him wrong. He pitied her at a point, he really did. Because Aiden is a lot like Jackson, and if Lydia hadn't learnt her lesson about dating bad boys the first time around, what makes Stiles think that the second time around would be any different?

He sighed then, wondering why he's never known how to get over a girl. Yet, that could be because he's never really had any reason to. It's still a strange concept to him though, how other people can leave one another behind without even a second thought. He can't really forget people in the way that they forget about him.

But then, he thinks that perhaps Lydia Martin doesn't even know him well enough to be able to forget him in the first place.


/ / /

He has Cora's number because they have…okay they had a project together. Once. He texts her with a greeting and it's not even unexpected when they end up making out in a janitor's closet only moments later. She has him up against the walls and he doesn't know what's making her so angry. She's rough, but he thinks that he's been through to enough to be able to handle it. Handle her. He knows that she's incredibly lonely. Lately, it seems that everyone around her…actually, everyone around him too…is dying.

And if she decides to cope with it by kissing him so hard that she bites him and draws blood from his mouth, than he really doesn't mind. This is the third time that they are together; he notices how quickly her fingers move from his face, to down his chest, and in to his pants. He finds himself counting the freckles on her nose, as if they are stars, the moment she sinks her hips in to his own and comes with her head thrown back and her back arched up.

The scratches she leaves on his skin are still present the very next day. They sting whenever he passes his fingers over them. Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that the wounds she left wouldn't ever heal. Because at least then, he would have one thing in his life that wouldn't be so ephemeral.


/ / /

Isaac catches him staring about three days later.

Cora is standing in line, getting lunch and Isaac and Stiles are waiting for Scott, somewhere across the cafeteria.

Isaac makes no remarks on the fact that Stiles smells like her. Isaac doesn't even bother making any comments at all. He just swears that he sees something flash in Stiles's eyes the moment where Cora peaks her head over her shoulder to meet his gaze.

It's as if they're using secret signals and exchanging a message that only they can decode.

Isaac brushes the thought off when Stiles quickly gathers his things and leaves their lunch table.


/ / /

She shares the same tattoo as Derek on the small of her back and Stiles will see it ever-so-often when he has her on all fours. But he never does get the chance to ask her about it because she's so quick to leave right after they're done. He thinks that maybe, it's a family thing. And maybe she just doesn't wanna talk about it.

They never really talk much anyway, what was the point of starting now?


/ / /

By the time he has exited math class with disappointment in his eyes, Scott and Isaac have already gone for lacrosse practice. Stiles's has failed a very important test and partially, he blames his supernatural problems. The fact that they've got an alpha pack, trying to kill them, every other week or so. He's not getting much sleep and the last thing he will do is blame his falling behind in school on the girl he's been fucking around with.

He sighed, it sounded so crude when he said it like that. But, that's just what it was. Screwing around.

That's why he's so surprised when he finds her curled up in a ball, in the corner of the vacant hallways, after school. He leans down to be at eye level with her and she doesn't even dare to look up.

She hates to have anyone see her like this.

"You all right there?" Stiles asks, trying to squeeze her arm (but he holds back because they only time they touch —actually touch, is when they're fucking).

"Leave me alone." Cora simply tells him, wiping away her tears.

He ends up rolling his eyes. "Great," he says. "I guess that this is the thanks I get for trying to help a Hale."

She sniffles and doesn't laugh at his sarcasm. "Why do you always associate everything I ever do with the fact that I'm a Hale?" He's shocked when she ends up shouting at him. He didn't expect her to be so offended.

He misses the look of brokenness she exudes. My family is a cage, she would say, if he were any closer to her. But, she thinks that perhaps, Boyd had been the only person whom she could consider a friend. And now, Boyd was…dead. Stiles was nowhere near a friend. Still, here he was, right by her side.

She might just be doing all of this because she almost died, countless times (and she still hasn't recovered from all of the trauma).

Either way, he starts to feel guilty for something he really isn't guilty for. So he rubs the back of his head and just blurts out "do you wanna got get ice-cream…or something?"

She peaks her head out from her arms. "What?" She squeaks, trying to offer him a second chance so maybe, he would smarten up and change his answer.

But Stiles sticks with his story. "Do you want to get some ice-cream?"

She's about to reject him in seventy-five different ways. But then she recalls a memory of her deceased mother and Derek, with ice-cream on their noses on a hot summer's day. She's about four years old and the treat tastes cold, but her brother's arm around her shoulder is very warm. Nostalgia overcomes her and before she knows it, Stiles is buying her a chocolate dipped cone with sprinkles on top.

"Feel better?" He released, walking her back to her house afterwards.

Her voice isn't even hesitant but, she's not showing any emotion either. "Yah," she simply whispers, realizing the exact reason why Stiles is the resident 'good guy'. He fails to question her when she grabs him by the collar and drags him in to her house.

He's about ninety-nine percent sure that she's going to kiss him. But she doesn't. Instead, she just mouths a slow and rational "don't worry, my brother's not home."

And then he thinks oh, so she does care.

He kisses her then, and they actually make out in her bed. The sheets smell like fresh jasmine and coconut shampoo. Girly, frilly and delicate. Breakable. It's so unlike her that he can't really believe it. But she must have many sides to her that he has yet to find out about. Like the fact that she keeps an old teddy bear by her bedside. It has burn marks all over, which makes Stiles realize that the bear was probably a survivor from the Hale house fire (just like she was). It makes him think about how she also doesn't desire for anything to be ephemeral. Perhaps, the torn teddy is a reminder of her pain and anguish.

She distracts him then, with the way her fingers weave in to his hair and draw patterns down his torso.

For the first time, she actually falls asleep beside him and it makes him think of a conversation he once had with her (himself) when she had been unconscious. She really is easier to talk to this way.

He could even tell her that she's beautiful under the light of the moon and she wouldn't even hit him afterwards.

It kind of makes him want to laugh.


/ / /

The same night, he learns that she tends to scream in her sleep. She chases invisible flames, attacking and setting fire to her skin and bones. He holds her, tightly. Like she needs it, like she wants it.

But she swears that she doesn't. She's tough as nails, and as hard as marble&stones. I'm fine Stiles, she'd say (like always, like the time she got a stupid alpha wound and almost died), I'm fine.

Yet, when he holds her, she's like sand running through his fingers, and water slipping out of his grasp.

Fleeting and ephemeral and soon, he finds himself wishing that she would just stay.


/ / /

He had managed to catch her having lunch alone the next Monday.

He thinks about it before he walks over to her. It's not that he's ashamed of it, or anything. Because after all, he would've lost his virginity to Heather, if she hadn't died. It's just that he doesn't think Cora would appreciate his presence. What the hell would they talk about anyway? The weather?

Stiles then turns the opposite way and Lydia Martin passes by with Aiden's hand in hers. For a moment, Stiles is at a stand-still. He wonders if he should turn back.


/ / /

She comes to his house on a dark and stormy night, with an equal measure of anguish and anger swirling in her irises. She bangs on his door restlessly as she is soaked to the bone with rain water. She doesn't say a word until he lets her inside. He might just rush to hand her a towel (before he has a chance to ask what in the world she's doing at his house). But instead, he ends up trying to carry her up the stairs of his house, without tripping while she's got her legs wrapped around his waist, and she's kissing him breathlessly.

"Just," she'd let out, letting her clothes fall to the floor. In the meantime, he was thanking God (or whomever was up there) that his father hadn't been home. "Fuck me," she demanded, letting her lashes close against his cheek (like ants on his skin) as she kissed him so very tenderly.

It's weird, but exciting, because Cora doesn't usually do tender. But he takes what he can get. And to his surprise, he actually likes how slow she's going. She's taken her time, to memorize all the ways that he likes to be touched. He realizes this when her tongue finds the special spot behind his ear and he groans (hears her laugh).

As a result, his hand ends up between her legs. She actually trembles and shakes.

She clenches around his fingers and his touch feels like whispers on her skin, like feathers and flower petals, like secrets in the night, and like something she's never ever felt before.

In the morning light, he is getting dressed (agonizingly slowly) and she's wide awake, for once.

Suddenly, being with her feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like ice-cream sundaes with Scott on a sunny afternoon, or riding bikes with dad on a cool evening.

He sees her watching him.

She's naked in his bed (he actually has a girl in his bed), letting her charcoal colored locks spill over his pillow. Her shell-pink lips part slightly open as she breathes in, looking tired and worn out. But he finds her beautiful, yet broken. A girl who's got herself between his sheets because she's searching for nothing but warmth and the semblance of normality.

"Stop looking at me like—" she stops in mid-sentence because she can't think of a good way to describe herself, at the moment. He's gazing at her like she's an old doll or shattered glass. "Like that." She settles for, being unable to translate her thoughts in to actual words.

All his questions remain unanswered. Like why can't he look at her like that? Does she own his eye-balls or something? He wants to scream, but he doesn't, he won't. He leans down to kiss her like she means something, like she's worth more than just this.

She pushes him away for the first time. He can't help but widen his eyes. "Don't do this," she tells him, and for once, he knows just what she means. "Don't you dare fucking do this, Stiles."

He wishes that he would have listened to her, but he's afraid that he's never been too good at doing what he's told.


/ / /

He visits his mother's grave one cloudy morning, wondering if she'll ever forgive him for all the ways that he's failed to be a happier person. She'd told him to do just that before she had passed on in her hospital bed.

He thinks he's a really bad son when he realizes that he can't even fulfill his mother's last wish.


/ / /

One morning, back at school—

"What now?"

She slams her locker shut. He doesn't think she's ever looked this annoyed with him.

"I just want to…to talk." He hesitates because he's scared. It's ridiculous because he doesn't even know exactly what he's scared of.

She touches his shoulder, fooling him in to thinking that they're friends (but wait, friends don't fuck right?) "I'm not in the mood for fucking right now," she whispers and all he does is shake his head.

"That's not what I meant," he fails to notice the endless layers of crushed dreams bleeding through her broken smile. "I mean like actual talking, you know…with words?"

"Why?" She can't help but wonder out-loud. He really can't offer her a good and solid answer because he has no idea why in the world he's doing anything anymore. So she speaks for him. "Don't tell me you want to be friends or something?" His silence is what pushes her to her limits. "We can't be like that Stiles. I told you not to do this." It's all she says.

However, he wants to ask her, — why can't they talk? Be friends? Get closer? He doesn't realize that she is a girl whose friends die on a regular basis. And maybe, just maybe, she doesn't want him to leave her behind.

Of all things, the school bell is what saves him the pain of watching her fall apart, over and over again. She walks to her history class and doesn't even turn back to look at him.

Not even once.


/ / /

He can never be happy, no matter which way he turns. He always ends up choosing the wrong path, and following false directions. He is just destined for chaos. To be lost forever.

He can't help but think that she is the very same.


/ / /

He is drunk the night Scott picks him up from her front lawn.

Stiles will lie in the passenger's seat, with his friend driving him home, wondering if Scott will mutter an I-tried-to-warn-you-but-you-didn't-listen.

Then, Stiles thinks that yeah, this is how it's supposed to be. Scott&Stiles, Stiles&Scott, Lydia&Aiden/Jackson, and Cora Hale just watching him from her window.

This is the universe, and those are its rules. He shakes his head, in a drunken haze. He starts to ask himself, why in the world he ever thought that he could bend God's rules and sin, without receiving any consequences for his bitter actions.


/ / /


/ / /


Le more notes: What do you think? Too Ooc? Oh dear, I do still hope that you enjoyed this fic. I don't really know how to write happy endings, so my stories always somehow end up like…this. Still, nothing like a little angst/au to spice up this pairing. I just see so much potential for these two; I really want them to be canon!

Reviews are my source of nutrition, don't let me starve!

—Xoxo Carter