KILLSHOT BABY | stiles stilinski

one ─ already burned

A soft hum echoed throughout the Degrace home in the early morning. Golden rays trickled in, pouring light onto the dark wooden floors that reflected onto the off-white walls. Freshly made pancakes slowly burning filled the air as a pan clattered with the stove, disrupting the hum. Neviah Degrace winced, shaking her hand. A small, "Fuck!" escaped her lips.

Red swarmed her palm. Neviah curled her hand into a fist, clenching her jaw before uncurling, only to repeat the action until the pain became bearable.

Stairs creaked, startling her. She focused back on her cooking to find it smoking. Neviah swiftly grabbed the pan handle, and dropped it into the sink. Smoke rose as the fresh, sweet scent was corrupted by char. So, much for breakfast, she thought to herself, curling her fist tightly.

"No wonder you're banned from cooking," a voice said, letting out a whistle, then a cough. "God, that's terrible. How-how did you manage to screw up pancakes?"

A burning glare contacted with a playful gaze. That gaze quickly faltered.

"I'm joking!" Stiles let out, tugging on his dark brown jacket over his black shirt with a target on it. He had terrible fashion taste, but at least his clothes made it easy for Neviah to know where to aim if he really wanted to test her.

Stiles made eye contact again. "Okay-stop looking at me like that. That look is pure evil, like, you're planning my funeral."

Neviah shrugged, moving her ombre passion twists over her shoulder as she turned off the stove. "No one knows you're here, and no one would think you'd come here," she trailed off, smirking.

She made sure their little secret was buried deeper than bodies - not that she would go as far as to kill Stiles to keep it hidden, though she had thought about it, not for the secret, but because he was Stiles. All though, she did like that he was intimidated by her.

"The stench of burnt pancakes would immediately lead them to you." He smiled smugly, placing his baseball cap backwards over his recently cut hair. Every few months Stiles shaves his head, something he started after...

Neviah moved to him, leaning close. Stiles' hazel eyes flickered to her lips, almost captivated by her mere presence. Her lips inched closer to his. His eyes fluttered shut. Neviah hummed. She yanked off the cap, and pulled away.

"The hat is cute, but not with this outfit," she explained, using the distance she created to eye him up and down. If she did help him fix the utter disaster in front of her, everyone would surely know. "It's...too much."

Stiles checked himself. He brought his head back up with a slight pout. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Everything," she said plainly. She placed the hat on the counter. "I thought that was obvious."

"Why can't you be nice to me for longer than a minute?"

"I can. I proved that last night," she responded with a smirk. Pink washed over his face like an ocean wave on sand. "But, it only lasts when you're doing your part, which you aren't anymore, sooo..."

Stiles raised his brow in confusion.

"That means leave, Mieczysław, a deal's a deal, right?" Neviah tilted her head to the side, watching his mood crumple in seconds. You would've thought he got the gist of said deal over the break. New flash: he didn't.