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Stiles wished she could've married for love like Scott and Allison did, but Stiles had people who relied on her. Marrying someone for money wasn't uncommon, but it made her feel bad. She just…she just needed to make sure her father wouldn't end up starving during the cold winters. It didn't matter how much her father was respected in the community for serving as the county’s chief constable for so many years. He had gotten sick and they ended up spending all their money on medical bills. And if he couldn't plow his field or gather his crops without feeling ill, he would just end up dead. So Stiles did the most rational thing she could think of. She married Chris Argent.
Chris had waited nearly a year after his first wife's death before he started courting Stiles. At first Stiles just thought he was being kind to her, but her father reminded Stiles that she was nearly eighteen and well at the age of marrying. It was Allison who had stopped by with a book from Chris Argent and informed Stiles that she should either let Chris know she agreed to being courted or let him know Stiles wasn't interested rather than letting him continue buying presents for Stiles. Allison looked tired, and obviously Stiles had no intention of leading Chris Argent on. But when Stiles realized she actually had options other than working in her father's field for the rest of her life and being unable to pay for his medicine, she hugged Allison tightly.
Allison was older than Stiles by a couple of years, so clearly Stiles wouldn't replace Allison's mother, but at least Allison wasn't offended by Chris' interest in getting remarried to Stiles. Scott, however, thought it would be creepy having Stiles as his mother-in-law. Stiles thought it was weirder that she vaguely resembled a young Victoria Argent. But eventually even Scott accepted that it was probably the wisest thing to do to marry one of the richest men in town. Within the month Stiles married Chris Argent, and Chris paid for all of Stiles father's medical bills.
Chris' house wasn't much larger than her father's, but he had people who worked on his fields, and he could send them to her father's field. All of Stiles’ fears that her father wouldn’t be taken care of while she was away were put at ease. And Stiles’ marriage wasn't an entirely loveless union. Chris held her and kissed her at night, and she baked him little cakes and made sure to sew all his clothes with care. If she had a beau when she was younger, she might’ve had something to compare her relationship to Chris with, but she didn’t. Stiles hoped she was a good wife, but she knew she wasn’t like other girls her age. Sometimes she worried that Chris would realize how horrible of a wife she was and divorce her and stop paying her father’s medical bills, but he didn’t seem to mind her oddness. Year after year she worried, and year after year Chris treasured her even more.
When she married him, it had been strange at first not having to work in the fields. She was only needed during harvest time. Instead Stiles filled her time with cooking and baking and washing and cleaning. It was boring work. Though she did like overseeing his finances. His records were meticulously kept, but his paperwork during the year after Victoria died was a mess. Stiles took the time restoring Chris’ financial records, managing the paperwork for tax records, collecting rent from tenants, and figuring out a way to seamlessly record it all in his booklets.
Sometimes she read one of the books Chris bought for her after selling the crops at the market, but those gifts were rare. It wasn't wise spending money on a book that could've been spent on a cow or a horse or a plow, but Chris insisted it was fine, that it was no issue to spend money on a book for his precious, little wife. Stiles liked reading those books aloud to him at night, and he enjoyed listening to her read before regretfully telling her that he needed to go to sleep. Only one word came to Stiles’ mind when she thought about her marriage: content. She was pleased with the state of things, but she wasn’t necessarily in love with how her life was.
---
If Chris hadn't owned so many fields and rented plots of land to so many people, perhaps Stiles would've never met Derek Hale. But she had one day when Chris asked her to take over some blankets and some food to hold the new tenant over before market day. Stiles made stew for Chris' lunch, which usually was shared among some of his workers. Stiles placed a lid over it and moved it farther away from the flames. The stew was already hot enough that it would be ready by the time Chris and the others usually stopped to eat.
Stiles ladled some soup into a metal pail, covering it tightly. She then gathered the food items she and Chris had picked out. A few loaves of bread, a couple of hunks of cheese, some dried meat, a handful of potatoes, and the stew. Stiles hoped it was enough, but if the new tenant needed to, he could always come to eat with her and Chris, though Chris would probably charge him a small fee, but it wouldn’t cost nearly as much as the nearby inn. Chris actually cared about his tenants, and Stiles liked that best about him. Stiles placed everything inside of a large bag, including the blankets, but decided to carry the metal pail outside of the bag.
Stiles tried to walk at a good pace. In a couple of hours Chris would be back from the fields. However, she really wanted to meet this Derek Hale. Usually she met the tenants before they moved in, but she had been visiting her father when Derek came by the house, and rather than wait for someone to appear, he had headed directly for the fields.
Stiles felt a little robbed by that. She loved meeting new people. It was always so fascinating hearing all about their stories. But Chris insisted the new tenant was a bit of a hermit, so Stiles would probably rarely see him.
Stiles looked up at the sky. The sun was still low enough that Derek wouldn't have stopped to eat lunch, though according to Chris, Derek had come there with nearly nothing. Stiles picked up her pace. The field Derek was working on was much farther away than any of the other ones Chris owned.
Stiles paused in front of the small shanty. She couldn't see anyone in the fields, but she wasn't going to stand around outside all day. Stiles knocked on the door. Hearing no answer, she opened the door and let herself in. The place was dusty. It had been a long time since it was occupied by a tenant, but Stiles expected Derek would've cleaned it up. Yes, he had only been living there since yesterday, but Stiles knew she definitely couldn't stand to live in a place with so many cobwebs. Especially when there was a broom right in the corner. Stiles placed the bag on the table and picked up the broom.
First she would need to remove the cobwebs and get rid of all the spiders, then sweep the floors. When Stiles cleaned the little, wooden house to the best of her abilities, she unpacked the food from the bag and placed it on the table. When she walked over to the bed, she saw that the current blanket covering the bed was getting mildew. She would need to wash it if Derek planned to keep it. Stiles picked it up to take it outside to air, but the straw underneath it looked just as bad. Stiles flipped it over, dragging it all outside, and swept away the mess.
The shed next to the small house was built more airtight and it contained dry hay from the previous tenant, and Stiles used the pitchfork to carry it inside. While she was putting fresh blankets down on the new bed, Stiles heard the door open and slam. When Stiles turned around, she expected to see some horribly disfigured person or possibly an older gentleman, but Derek Hale was nothing like that. He was handsome. Stiles brushed away a piece of hay that managed to find its way into her braided hair.
Derek glared at her. "Who are you?"
Stiles tried to look more presentable, but the hay was clinging to her dress. Stiles freed herself from the remaining hay and used the broom to sweep it off to the side of the room. "Chris asked me to bring you some food and blankets." Stiles walked to the table, uncovering the still hot stew. "See," Stiles smiled.
However, Derek wasn't pleased at all, but Stiles knew for a fact that the stew was delicious. "Does Mr. Argent always send people to barge into his tenants' homes?"
Stiles didn't like Derek's attitude. He was acting like she had done something horribly wrong when all she had done was bring him food and make him a nicer home to live in. Stiles pursed her lips. "Only when my husband asks me to," Stiles snapped. Stiles grabbed her bag and carried it outside. She kneeled down by the blanket and started stuffing it inside the bag.
"Don’t touch that!" Derek's hand gripped Stiles' wrist, but she wrenched it free.
"I'm just going to wash it. I swear I'll bring it back to you, you idiot." Stiles rolled her eyes. She had dozens of blankets. What good would this one be, especially since it was... "Is this covered in blood?" Stiles dropped the blanket and immediately stood up. She wasn't afraid of being alone with a stranger, but she was afraid of being alone with a possible murderer.
"It was my blood," Derek explained. "I hurt my arm."
Stiles tried to spot a scar, but all she could see was muscle. Lots of muscles which could be used to hold her down and strangle her. Stiles tried to covertly look at the pathway leading back home. She wiggled her toes in her shoes. She would never be able to outrun him in this dress, and it wouldn't matter how much she screamed because nobody lived nearby. Stiles had a knife hidden in her pocket that Chris had given her in case she was ever alone with an unruly tenant, but Stiles was pretty sure Derek could still overpower her once she got the knife out.
But Chris was a pretty good judge of character. He wouldn't let someone stay on his land if he thought they were a murderer. Stiles nodded her head. "You’re telling me the truth?"
Derek rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm telling the-"
Stiles yanked out the knife from her pocket and held it in front of Derek's neck. "Don’t get pissy with me! I'm asking a serious question. That's a lot of blood, way more than some arm wound, especially since you have no scar. My mind is trying to make sense of it, and there you are rolling your eyes." Stiles scoffed. "So I’ll ask again. Is this your blood?"
Derek glared at her but eventually he replied. "Yes."
Stiles moved the knife away. "Well okay," she sighed. Stiles folded the bloodied part of the blanket over with her foot and resumed stuffing it in her bag. Though she wasn’t going to wash it until she showed Chris first. It wasn’t unheard of for some murderer to go through towns to avoid being brought to justice. But Chris could probably get Derek to explain his story. "I'll bring it back within the week."
Derek nodded and Stiles walked back down the pathway. When she told Chris about the blanket, he hypothesized that maybe Derek felt awkward explaining the blood was from sex. Stiles disagreed. The first time she had sex with Chris, there was hardly any blood. Derek would’ve had to have a lot of sex with a lot of virgins to get that large of an amount of blood. And Stiles doubted Derek would be so unknowledgeable about sex that some woman would bleed so much during her first time. Although that could’ve just been a biased opinion. Stiles didn’t want to admit it out loud, but Derek was gorgeous. And the possibility that Derek was so awful at sex made her cringe.
But when Chris saw the blanket for himself, even he was a little concerned. However, when Chris came in for dinner later that week and told Stiles that Derek did in fact have a scar on his arm and a credible story, Stiles washed the blanket. She didn’t want to, but Chris said Derek’s story was fine and Stiles didn’t have any other reason to hold Derek’s blanket hostage. It was the first time Stiles was truly angry with Chris. She knew something was amiss, and whatever Chris was hiding from her would be found out.
After that initial meeting with Derek, Stiles kept finding excuses to visit him. The first excuse was how she promised to return Derek’s blanket. At first Stiles just wanted to visit Derek in order to interrogate him. She really didn’t think Derek was innocent. And she wanted to know why he insisted on being some creepy hermit. And if the blanket really was covered with his blood, then what—or who—was he hiding from? Stiles’ father would tell her not to go around Derek, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to know if Derek was a murderer or if he was running from something.
Derek wasn’t as rude to Stiles when she visited that time. Stiles assumed he must’ve liked the stew she made. It was her mother’s recipe. In fact, all of the things she made were her mother’s recipes. Stiles tried to follow Victoria Argent’s recipes, but all the dishes tasted just a little bit off. Stiles was positive Victoria had a secret code she must’ve followed because all of Victoria’s recipes that Stiles followed ended up being too salty or too watery or too floury.
Stiles just knew Victoria must’ve altered all the recipe books just to make sure nobody could ever truly replace her. It was a devious plan, but it was perfectly brilliant. Sometimes Chris would get melancholy and ask if Stiles could make one of Victoria’s dishes. Stiles would smile and try to wheedle her way out of it, but eventually she caved and tried to alter the recipe to normal human standards. Victoria was probably laughing somewhere in the afterlife. But Stiles wondered if she would ever try to mess up her own recipes as well. If she was ever married to someone she loved that much and knew she would be dying soon, she might.
The next time Stiles visited Derek was under the pretense that she needed to retrieve the metal pail she had forgotten. Derek was much sweeter that time. It probably had to do with how she brought him even more food, though she “accidentally” left another metal pail that time as well.
And then when she ran out of acceptable reasons to see Derek, she started telling Chris she was going to visit her father, which she did do, but then she sneaked off to Derek's little house. Derek hardly ever talked about his past, but he listened to Stiles chatter on and on, which was nice considering how she usually was stuck home alone all day. After awhile Stiles stopped thinking he might be a murderer, but she did know she was slowly falling in love with him.
The first time she kissed Derek, he stormed off. Stiles checked the field, but he wasn’t anywhere near there, and so Stiles went home. Stiles didn’t visit Derek for a week, but when she finally got the courage to go back there, Derek pressed her up against a wall and kissed her. However, she had been the one to lead him over toward his bed. She never knew someone could be so solidly made of muscle, but after enough coaxing, he laid down on the bed with her.
Each time she told Chris her plans for the day, he always had a calculating stare, but he always shrugged it off. Stiles continued seeing Derek until the harvest was over, and then Derek sold all of his crops and left. It was completely unexpected. But one day she visited his little house, and everything he owned was gone.
---
Stiles placed a hand over her belly. Her monthly bleeding had stopped and her dresses were getting too tight. Chris unlaced her dress for her, pressing kisses to her breasts as he removed her clothing. "We’ll have to tell people you're pregnant soon."
Stiles nodded, but she was already on the verge of tears.
"We just have to hope the babe has your eyes. And if it doesn't look anything like us, we'll just tell everyone the child got its looks from my mother."
Stiles dropped her head onto Chris' shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Stiles sobbed while Chris gently picked her up and carried her onto the bed.
Chris took off his own clothes and climbed into bed with her. "Shhh, don't cry. It'll be alright," Chris said as he pulled her closer to him. Stiles looked up at Chris while he moved his hands around her to untie her hair, unbraiding her hair and running a hand through it to see the wildness of it. "I half expected you would run away with him in the dead of the night."
Stiles tried to smile but instead cried some more. "That’s not funny."
"Neither is thinking about my little wife being more in love with someone half my age." Chris untangled his hand from her hair and used it to cup her face. "I spent months trying to mentally prepare myself for your absence."
Stiles wrapped her arms around him. "I'm not going anywhere, you idiot."
Chris smiled. "Everyone thinks I have such a docile, little wife, but listen to how she yells at me."
Stiles rolled her eyes. "Shut up."
Stiles pulled Chris closer to her so she could kiss him, and rolled them over so he was on top of her instead of them lying on the bed side by side. Chris raised himself up on his elbows to take some of the pressure off of Stiles, rubbing her belly after he did so.
"Did he try very hard to steal you away? Did he promise you gold and riches and everything you ever wanted?"
Stiles shook her head, but her smile turned bitter. "No."
Chris quirked an eyebrow. "I would've." Chris pressed kisses along her neck as he lowered himself down the bed. "I would've promised you gold, and lots of food, a nice home, and more fields than the eye can see, more books than you've ever thought possible. Everything."
Stiles carded her hand through his hair while he sucked on her breast. "You’ve already given me all of that."
Chris licked her nipple before responding. "If I was a vagabond passing through town and I saw you, I would’ve promised you anything you wanted in order to steal you away from your husband," Chris smirked.
Stiles scoffed, but it turned into a sigh when he lightly bit the other nipple. "What a scoundrel," Stiles gasped. Stiles tried to catch her breath, but Chris was already moving lower, biting and leaving marks as he went.
When Chris' head was between her thighs, he pushed against her legs so she would spread them wider. She immediately complied, and Chris smirked once more before pressing a kiss against her clit.
"Did your lone wolf do anything like this?"
Stiles gasped at how quickly he went back to sucking and kissing it. Stiles forgot about the question, but then Chris lightly spanked her. "Stiles."
"No," Stiles moaned. "He never did."
Stiles brought her hand up to brush Chris' hair away from his forehead. He momentarily leaned into her touch before resuming his ministrations. Stiles bucked up, grabbing at his hair as his tongue swirled around, lightly pressing into her every so often. Her toes curled, and when her knees rose up, she had to quickly force herself to flatten her legs down on the bed so they wouldn't try to squeeze together during the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Stiles closed her eyes while her body continued to periodically shudder. She could feel Chris picking up her body and lifting her higher up the bed, fluffing the pillow under her head before he even started to press the tip of his cock against her.
Stiles inhaled when Chris finally pushed his cock inside of her. Chris tipped her chin up. "But you love me, don't you?"
Stiles' eyes crinkled open. "Of course." Stiles wrapped her arms around Chris' shoulders. "Of course I love you."
Chris slotted their mouths together. "Good."
When Chris started thrusting, he gently tangled his fingers up in her hair. Apart from Derek, she only ever let Chris see her hair looking like this. Usually it was braided tightly in one long strand, or it was braided tight along her head and kept out of the way. Stiles sighed. She knew she shouldn't have cheated on Chris with Derek. It always felt like she was being mean-spirited when she did. She had hoped Chris hadn't known she was seeing Derek, but obviously he had figured it out. Stiles felt like an idiot for thinking she could keep the fact that she had sex with Derek a secret.
But she really did think she was in love with Derek. She had told Derek all of the little jokes she would've instead told Chris. She had let Derek undo her hair and pull on it like how Chris liked to. And stupidly, she had told Derek she loved him. And then Derek left her. Told her how she was still practically a child, foolish and ignorant of everything. And Stiles must've been foolish to think Derek wouldn't really leave town without her.
Stiles dug her nails into Chris' arm when he started thrusting harder and faster. Chris brought one hand down and started rubbing her clit. Stiles couldn't stop the moans that were coming out of her mouth, but Chris made a valiant attempt to stop them when he pressed their lips together and kissed her through their orgasms.
Instead of collapsing on Stiles, Chris leaned off to the side. After a few minutes, Chris stood up and grabbed a cloth from the washbasin to clean up Stiles and himself, setting the cloth down when he thought they were cleaned up enough. Finally Chris got into bed, pulling the covers up over him and Stiles.
Stiles huddled closer to Chris under the covers. "Um," Stiles looked up at Chris, "do you love me?"
Chris stared at her before pulling her closer and sliding a leg between hers. "Unfortunately, I do." Chris laughed when he saw Stiles' wounded look, but he didn't mean to hurt her. Chris pressed her head against his chest. "I love your pretty, curly hair that you refuse to let anyone see. I love your snide little remarks you make during the day that you hope nobody catches you saying." Chris slid his hand over Stiles' belly. "And I love your precious, little child."
Chris tugged the blankets tighter around them. Chris was starting to fall asleep when Stiles woke him up.
"It could always look like you," Stiles whispered.
Chris smiled before pressing a kiss against her temple. "We’ll see."