Author's note: *jumps dramatically in front of you* *Octavia Blake's voice* IT'S STALIA WEEK, BITCHES!

Have you been waiting for this? I've been. I wanted this day to arrived since the moment I realized I would be able to write seven different prompts and participate. I'm so happy!

You see, some results - like this one here - are great, some not so much, but in the end of the day, we have a new thing to the Stalia Love Affair. I hope you guys like it as much as I do.

IMPORTANT: My new friend, the talented Emma made something REALLY nice: SHE ILLUSTRATED ALL OF THE PROMPTS! Everything is so beautiful, I love it! (at least the ones she showed me until now!) So you can go to her tumblr - cosmosbadger/tagged/staliaweek - and cry because they all are so pretty! I'm so luck she accepted to do that!

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf and its characters are not mine. It's a shame. I wouldn't mind having my own Stiles/Dylan O'Brien.

Day one: Fluffy

Wrapped with a ribbon on it
Seven Teen Wolf prompts for the Stalia Week

DAY ONE – Wild thing

When she was turned back human and dropped by her father's door, it was hard and painful. Most of the time, Malia was angry, a wild thing, monstrously distant. Feral child, the psychologists said – and she thought the title suited.

She wanted to tear up human flesh, with its feelings and its emotions and its taste, and just go back home, where she belonged, where she knew how to live. But she was trapped, so she had to try and adapt – but it was out of question.

Her room – hers and her sister's had its amount of memories and one day Malia decided that it was too much: she would change everything; she'd fill boxes and stuff everything in the basement, even her sister's bed, if she could, and she'd make the room so different it'd be as if it never were theirs. Just hers.

She almost got it done. Almost. More than half of the things already were in the basement when she found the old hardcover of a child's book among her sister's teddybears, the crayon marks still resilient in its pages.

This book belongs to Malia H. and Anna S. Tate – you could read on the first page. It was written in a way that Malia H. and Anna S. where one under another and Tate was written twice as big beside the two names. She recognized her own childish cursive and even though it was a happy story, about adventure and imagination, Malia cried.

That day, Henry Tate decided it was better to put his only daughter in Eichen House, at least until she solved her "feral child issues". Malia never got to finish the changes to her room.

So when the literature teacher said "Bring your favorite book next class and we'll make a cool discussion over them", Malia had to ask.

"Any book?"

The teacher nodded.

"Any book, as long as it's your favorite. I want to show you guys that the books you love so much are not so different from the books we tell you to read. Won't that be a neat experience?"

Malia knew what book she wanted to bring and so she did, but in the following class, when the teacher asked which books they had brought and she took the big hardcover from her backpack, a few class mates laughed and mocked her. Of course Malia's favorite book was a child's book, she was dumb as a door! And the words cut deep, even though she didn't know much yet on how to deal with human emotion.

She looked at her book not understanding what was that made it so inappropriate for high school and felt her eyes burn. She wasn't dumb. That book was awesome and important to her.

"Malia?" Stiles called. He was sitting by her side and had made sure to send some hard glances to the people who were mocking her. She didn't look up. "Mal…" he touched her shoulder, and then she looked at him, her eyes clear with tears. "Don't listen to them. I love your book, it's one of my favorites. I have a copy too."

Malia smiled and looked at his hand to see which book he had brought. Neverending Story. German literature.

"What about you, Malia?" the teacher asked her smiling. "You seemed very excited last class, so what did you bring?"

She raised her book. It was square, big, colorful, old and beaten down, but still whole. The teacher's eyes were full of surprise and something else… like… she was happy, but it wasn't exactly what she expected.

"Where the wild things are?" she said reaching to take the book in her hands. "Why?"

The teacher flipped the pages, Malia shrugged.

"My mom gave me this book when I was five and had just learned how to read." She answered. "I used to read it to my sister every night and we both loved it so much. It was mine, but I treated it like ours. Now it's just mine again, I guess. And I still love it. You said I could bring any book."

She could've lied. She could've said anything, but Malia wasn't a liar, she was honest and it was a good thing to tell the truth, even if the truth hit her hard in the chest and watered her eyes.

(besides, everyone knew her story – the child who disappeared after the car crash that killed her mother and little sister – it was all over the news a few months before. No one else called her dumb that day.)

And when she got a call from Peter one day, while she was on a "real date" with Stiles (they were just in his jeep up the mountain, eating curly fries and being happy) and she had to leave him to help her father, Stiles pouted and looked at her with those brown eyes of his and didn't say much.

"Don't go." He pleaded. "I'll eat you up, I love you so."

It was enough to make her stay.

A/N: So? What do you guys think? Let me know through your review, can you? Pretty please?

I see you tomorrow! x