Stiles X Reader - Blog Posts

WHERE TH IS ALL THE THOMAS X READER FICS???? I THOUGHT WE ALL LOVED DYLAN IN MAZE RUNNER????????IM SO DEPRIVED IM MAKING A POST ABOUT IT!!!! THERE WAS LIKE ONLY ONE GOOD JUICY FANFIC I NEED MORE!! AND WHILE WE AT IT I NEED MORE STILES STILINSKI FICS TOO WE RUNNING LOW!!!!! IM BEGGING YEWWWW! PLEASEE👹🥹🙏🏾

stiles stilinksi: breakable heaven; pt. 1, “fever dream high in the quiet of the night, you know that i caught it.”

description: situationship x stiles stilinksi?? fuck yeah. this part is really long and honestly is just setting the story up, so just expect tension, pining, and silliness. part two soon! enjoy xo

OTHER STORY PARTS linked here.

“someone needs to sex me right now!”

danny slams his locker shut, fed up with stiles’ griping and groaning about his lack of sexual experiences. he knows he should just mind his business, but part of him felt bad for stiles. he wasn't an ugly guy. loud, annoying, and dramatic? yes. but, nonethless, danny knew what it was like to feel unwanted, ugly. stiles deserved to experience that validation. besides, maybe getting laid would chill him out a bit.

“okay,” danny leanes against his locker, annoyance and exasperation in his tone.

stiles turns towards him around, curious, “really?”

danny examines stiles’ eager response, and realizes the younger boy thinks they’ve just made a sex pact. danny cringes, “ew, absolutely not. you are not my type.”

stiles falters, eyes falling from danny's. “aw. okay.”

danny furrows his brows. stiles was...so very unique. he almost drops the subject. but, then, as stiles goes to turn back towards scott, danny sighs, garnering his attention again. “i do have a friend.”

stiles perks up again, the light glinting up his brown, mischievous eyes. “oh? a friend? a girl space friend? not some little twink, right? you mean, like, a female woman?”

danny nods with a slight roll of his eyes. “yes, dumbass, a girl space friend. my friend got her heart broke over the summer, so she’s not looking for anything serious. she just wants to hang. and, i think she’d be into you.”

stiles grabs scott by the shoulders and shakes his friend around like they have just won the state championship. scott is thrown off balance, and grabs at the lockers beside him for support. danny pats stiles’ shoulders as he passes by.

“i’ll send your her number," is his closing statement. it seals the deal for stiles.

he breaks out into a dance, shaking his fists in the air, wiggling his little hips. “i’m gonna get laid,” he sings out with his eyes squeezed shut from the width of his grin. “i’m gonna have seeeeeeex!”

scott, balanced on his feet now, shifts his backpack between shoulders. “stiles?” he calls out, intruding his friend’s celebration.

stiles cannot hear him. so, scott grabs stiles by the shoulders, facing him with seriousness in his tone. “stiles!”

scott has always been supportive of any opportunity for stiles to lose his v-card. although, this time, it seems his friend is only obsessing over the idea of not being murdered, rather than actually losing his virginity. anyways, scott had always thought it would happen with someone stiles cared about, like lydia, or another girl he would develop a relationship with. not some one night stand. not something this casual. he wants to express his concern, knowing his friend is vulnerable and easily tainted.

stiles is shocked by scott's loud voice, taken out of his trance involuntarily. “what?!”

the bell rings. scott, a newfound academia, begins to pull stiles along with him through the hallway, so they’re not late to chemistry. he wraps his arm around stiles’ shoulder, “do you seriously think that you-“ he pokes his chest, “stiles stilinksi, can just chill with a girl?”

stiles winces at scott’s finger and rubs his chest after it retracts. “first of all- ouch!” he groans, “second of all, yes! i think i can just chill.”

he puffs his chest, straightens his jacket dramatically. all mannerisms he exhibits within this second after his proclamation guarantee that he, stiles stilinksi, can not, in fact, just chill.

stiles brushes past scott, leading the way into chemistry class. scott watches from the door as his friend slides into his seat, dumping his backpack on the floor, flicking his head at lydia across the room. she purses her lips and looks away. stiles slouches in his seat. scott didn’t need a werewolves intuition to see so plainly that stiles would get his heart broken.

Danny: hey stiles. here's y/n's number. don't hurt her or i stg ill beat ur ass. enjoy ;)

—

"danny, why the fuck are you selling me off like some pimp?"

danny flinches at the sound of her voice, looking up from his phone with a wary expression. he didn't exactly get his friend's permission to give away her phone number. but, at this point, he didn't really care. he loved her, but the poor girl needed dick more than a camel in the desert needed water. she kept claiming she'd have a hot girl summer- which turned into get augusted by some stupid college boy. and, the fall was already starting. he knew she wouldn't make it through senior year without human touch. she was starting to shrivel away into nothingness.

danny, leaned up against his locker, rolled his eyes as y/n came to a halt in front of him. "girl, be for real."

she crossed her arms, "you be for real, bitch! i did not ask for some junior boy to be stinking up my line with his horny ass!" y/n waved her phone in front of his face.

danny grabbed the device from her and read aloud the text stiles had sent her. "hey, there! this is stiles stilinski. you probably don't know me, but we have a mutual friend, danny. gay danny, not republican, sophomore danny. anyways, gay danny told me you were dtf? we should totally hook up sometime! let me know, and we can chill or something!"

"oh, my god," y/n smashed her face into her hands, redder than the stripes on danny's t-shirt. "who the fuck texts like that? that is so- oh, my god. i'm gonna block him."

danny quickly shut down the idea, "no, no, no! i know this message makes him seem like a literal incel. but stiles is cute! he's kinda sweet. i mean, ive known him since he was on the jv team four years ago. he's kinda awkward and a little weird, but i think you'd like him."

she looked at her friend with a cringed expression. "i trust and love you so much. but this...this text message is a giant red flag."

"okay, valid," danny pointed, handing her back her phone. "man, i was really hoping this would work out. listen...why don't you at least meet him? come to the lacrosse game tonight. i'll introduce you guys afterwards. maybe i'll organize a little post-game outing to the diner or something."

y/n shrugs throughout danny's idea. but, she eventually relaxes her shoulders, and becomes a little more willing. "i mean...i guess. but, do not leave me alone with him! please! i do not want to end up on dateline."

"girl, please, he couldn't harm a fly. he's got arms the size of spaghetti noodles."

y/n giggled at danny's description. "i keep trying to picture him in my mind, but i just can't. do you have a pic?"

"he was in our english class last year, but he had a buzz cut then-"

"red flag."

"shut up," danny shoved her arm. "here," he whips out his phone and finds stiles' instagram. there's a bunch of pictures of his jeep, and y/n doesn't hesitate to point out how this, too, is a red flag. to which danny replies, "the color of anything doesn't matter when y'all are fucking."

danny finally swipes enough on stiles' recent post to find one of him and scott, at an amusement park or something a few weeks ago. they have their arms around each other's shoulders and are both throwing up peace signs. y/n sees scott first and recognizes him, "he's the co-captain, right? he glew up, for real."

danny nods in agreement, "yeah, but this one's stiles."

he zooms in with his thumb and pointer finger. stiles grin and his sweet brown eyes catches y/n's gaze. she smiles at the sight, "aw, okay. yeah, he's adorable. i'll meet him."

y/n and danny are unaware, but scott and stiles are at the end of the hallway, whooping and hollering at the plans they haven't even been made directly aware of. scott is still feeling wary for his friend, but stiles can't think of anything at all when he lays his eyes on her.

sure, the thoughts he's having are impure, like how she'd look naked, under him, with her lips plump and ripe from his teeth. but, he's also thinking about how beautiful she is.

nothing about this situation was going to end up casual. in fact, it would probably end in flames.

—

y/n attended lacrosse games every once and a while, in support of her cousin, issac, and danny. she normally had to work, but she managed to get her coworker to switch shifts with her. she wasn’t a sports kinda gal, but it was fun to be an active teenager every once a while. danny let her borrow his away jersey, and she wore that over a long sleeves shirt. it was three sizes too big, but it helped her stay warm, considering it was freezing outside.

y/n went with three other’s in their loose friend group: megan and leo, the longterm straight couple, and jack. they found seats towards the back, and huddled in with the rest of the crowd. y/n caught danny’s gaze from the bench. he was adjusting his gloves, and y/n waved crazily when she saw him.

danny waved back, wide grin on his face. he glanced around the bench, in search of something or someone. then, he perked up at the sight of another player. he glanced back at y/n, and pointed at the boy.

“stiles,” danny mouthed.

y/n stood up, and followed danny’s line of sight. sure enough, stiles was standing in front of the bench, a few people down from danny. he was talking quickly, throwing his hands about like a madman. she recognized scott sitting to the left of him, half-listening to his friend. then, scott seemed to feel her gaze on the two of them. he grabbed at stiles arms, telling him something. stiles quickly looked towards danny, who glanced back at y/n.

stiles followed danny’s turn of head, and met her eyes. her hand, still raised from saying hello to danny, waved towards stiles. he blushed, a deep red color, and smiled this dopey, puppy dog grin. he moved about himself, unsure of what to do. somehow, he stepped on his helmet, and fell to the ground.

scott looked back at y/n, squeezed his eyes shut in utter disappointment at his friend, and hung his head low. he leaned down, grabbed stiles by the collar, and landed the boy back on his feet. y/n met danny’s eyes, pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t burst out giggling. danny covered his mouth, and his shoulders shook with laughter.

stiles quickly sat himself down, avoiding y/n’s gaze. he was embarrassed, and sure she was making a cringed face at him. but, he didn’t know that she was grinning as she sat. her eyes were glinting.

the game started shortly after, and it ended almost as quickly as it had begun. it was close, and the wolves almost lost. but, luckily, the boys managed to even out the score, and dug the other team a shallow grave.

y/n found herself cheering for her school’s team throughout the game. she quickly learned stiles number, and watched him, along with danny, dart around the field. he was pretty good, though he was tiny. he was taller than average, and that gave him some advantage against other players. plus, being skinny made him fast. he had made a few scores, and y/n whooped and hollered in response.

meanwhile, stiles found himself looking towards her seat throughout the game. she had a really infectious smile, and, damn, she was loud. at times, he could hear her voice over everybody else.

after the game, the crowd dispersed, and the team lingered on the field to not only hear coaches closing speech, but to celebrate with friends and family members. y/n, jack, leo, and megan climbed down the bleachers and crowded towards danny. his family hadn’t made it that evening.

y/n found herself nervous to formally meet stiles. she had replied to his text message earlier, informing him of danny’s idea for them to meet. she didn’t address the half of his message that was weird and kind of cryptic. she didn’t really want to think of that big ick.

anyways, seeing him in real life, in his cute little lacrosse uniform, polished his reputation up just a bit. danny was right, it didn’t really matter what his personality was like if they were just gonna fuck. but, y/n still wanted him to be a decent person. they’d have to hang out just a little bit. and she’d rather not have to sit through his apparent need to rant frequently if those rambles were about stupid, gross things.

danny saw his friends and his face lit up. he jogged the small distance to y/n, who pumped her fists in the air with excitement. danny embraced her tightly, lifting her off her feet.

“good job, dan!” she cheered in his ear, squeezing him around his shoulders. up in the air, y/n spotted stiles a little ways behind them. he was chatting with scott, an older woman, and the sheriff. he caught her gaze and stumbled over his words. he raised his hand in a short wave. y/n simply smiled in response before squeezing her eyes shut and leaning her chin into danny’s neck. he set her back on her feet. then, he celebrated with their other friends, too.

megan and leo left right after greeting danny because she had to work in the morning. but, jack hung around with them. he and y/n didn’t speak much. they just hung out with the same group of people. and, hanging out usually just meant getting high in danny’s basement or going on group dates to the movies.

“dude, that was a sick game!”

y/n tried to pretend like she knew what jack and danny were talking about, or that she was even remotely interested in the topic of conversation. she tried to strain her gaze over danny’s shoulder without seeming obvious. stiles was cute. like, super cute.

the conversation continued for a few seconds before someone interrupted it.

scott wrapped his arm around danny’s shoulder, squeezing the older boy into his side. scott was weirdly strong. then, stiles appeared at danny’s other shoulder. his cheeks were flush red, from both the game, and the pretty girl standing in front of him, who he was supposed to have sex with. he tried to seem nonchalant, cool. but he was sweating, from both of the same causes, again. y/n tried not to act like it was affecting her, the way his brown hair swooped down over his forehead due to the sweat. she tried to, also, not stare at his puffy lips as he spoke, swollen from chewing on them during the game. he was incredibly passionate about everything. especially teasing danny.

“aye, danny boy, good job out there tonight!” stiles ruffled danny’s hair.

the older boy knocked stiles’ shoulder with his own. “watch it, stilinksi.”

y/n, a pretty confident, witty person, interjected the conversation, “since when is it danny boy? i thought it was gay danny?”

stiles, who had been trying to play it cool, sucked both of his lips between his teeth. “oh, that’s funny, actually- you know, i- that’s crazy-“ his voice cracked. he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

y/n giggled, “i’m kidding. gay danny is hilarious.”

danny grinned between his two friends. “i think it’s rather hilarious, too.” he moved out from beneath stiles and scott’s arms. “don’t you, stiles? hey, let me know if you’re dtf?”

danny stood beside y/n, who hit him with her hand. scott, who was a little out of the loop, dropped his jaw. “oh, stiles,” he groaned, head falling back, “dude, please do not tell me you said that!”

he looked towards his best friend, who placed his hand on his hip, and glared at the turf. “you know…words are-“

“dude!” scott shoved stiles shoulders. “you’re a fucking idiot!”

stiles faltered on his feet, using his lacrosse stick to balance himself. “okay, i don’t want to hear it from you! please tell me the last charming thing you said to a girl?!”

y/n intruded again, “how about, hello, how are you? nice to meet you, my name is stiles?”

stiles finally met y/n’s eyes. she looked anticipatory, brows raised slightly, teeth over her bottom lip. he licked his own, dry lips, falling over his words. this never really happened. he always had something to say. and now, he was speechless.

their gaze didn’t falter for a few moments, as y/n waited for the boy to say something. he didnt, so she stuck out her hand, “hello, how are you? my names y/n, nice to meet you!”

stiles stared at her hand, her pretty hand, just hanging there in the space between them. scott hit him over the back of the head with his lacrosse stick. stiles tripped over his feet. he balanced himself out and finally shook her hand.

“nice to meet you,” he nodded. “i’m stiles.”

“is that short for anything?” y/n asked, stepping closer. danny and scott busied themselves to the side with jack, trying to give the two potential lovebirds a moment alone.

stiles moved a little closer, too, until there was only a foot or two between them. y/n was really good at maintaining eye contact, but that made stiles nervous. he glanced around her face, trying not to stare at her lips, or her nose, or her rounded cheeks.

“it’s short for Mieczyslaw,” stiles scratched the back of his head, embarrassed by his weird name.

“oh, no way! that’s my grandpas name!” y/n replied.

stiles perked up, “really? that’s- that’s cool.”

“it’s actually david,” y/n widened her eyes amusedly, “i thought it would be funny to say it was Mieczyslaw. but i don’t know how that’s funny. it’s just david. his names david.”

she laughed nervously. her gaze faltered from stiles. the corner of his lips quirked up. that was his kind of humor. he chuckled, somewhat dryly due to his nerves, and said, “it is funny. i liked it. it’s funny.”

“usually when someone has to say something’s funny, it’s not,” y/n crinkled her nose. her hands were crossed in front of her, fingers slick with nervous sweat. he was making her so nervous and shy. unusual.

stiles shrugged off the fact she had stated, “i don’t think so. i think it’s still funny.”

they shared a longer gaze, words absent from both of their minds. stiles rubbed his lips together and waited for his brain to formulate some kind of sentence. y/n smiled, slowly, okay with the silence.

“hey, guys,” danny intruded their moment, “we’re gonna go get changed, then head to my house, yeah? scott’s gonna invite allison. maybe lydia, but i doubt she’ll come.”

stiles and y/n looked to danny, sweet little smiles swallowing expressions. danny couldn’t help but grin. this had to be one of his best ideas, ever.

“okay, sounds good,” y/n nodded. she looked back to stiles, awaiting his answer.

he followed her lead, “yeah, yeah, awesome. we’ll meet you there?”

“well,” danny shook his head slightly, “i was gonna drive scott. and, then, jack, you know, plus if allison comes…my cars kinda full.”

“wha- scot-“ stiles looked towards his best friend, betrayed by scott’s willingness to ride with someone else. then, he met scott’s eyes, and understood the matchmaking game that was being played.

y/n glanced at stiles, who was nodding nervously. “yeah, okay. do you- would you wanna ride with me, y/n?”

“yeah,” she smiled, “i’ll ride with you.“

y/n, jack, and allison hung out outside the boys’ locker room while they showered and changed. y/n texted her mom to let her know she’d be getting home late. then, she shut her phone off and shoved it in her jeans pocket. allison met her eyes from the bench across the hallway.

“i feel like we’ve never hung out,” y/n smiled.

allison shrugged with a shy grin, “i don’t really hang out with many people. my family’s…weird.”

“it’s okay, mine, too,” y/n giggled. “we can trauma dump later, yeah?”

allison nodded, “i’d love that.”

“so, are you and scott together?” y/n wriggled her brows suggestively.

allison blushed, pulling her gaze to her hands in her lap. she fidgeted with her fingers. “uh, no, not anymore. we- uh, just, it’s complicated.”

“ah, i see,” y/n narrowed her eyes playfully.

allison looked back up to the girl and furrowed her brows, “what about you? i thought you were seeing sam? sam collins? i saw you guys together over the summer.”

y/n shifted in her seat, her throat tightening at the thought of sam collins. “yeah, we- were? i guess. i don’t know, it was a whole situation. i’ll tell you all about later when we do that trauma dumping.”

allison offered a supportive smile, “sounds like a deal.”

scott, stiles, and danny piled out of the locker room doors, backpacks and lacrosse bags slung over their shoulders. they barely made it through the frame.

danny rounded up his carload, quickly leaving y/n and stiles in the dust so they were forced to be alone. he had texted her before showering, ensuring she felt safe and comfortable with the idea they had entrapped her and stiles in. in response, she had said, “he’s CUTE!”

y/n stood from the bench, sighing slightly. “looks like we’re stuck together.”

stiles, who had gotten a pep talk from scott, was a little calmer. he waved his arm out in front of himself, “ah, can’t be the worst thing. lead the way.”

y/n grinned up at him. standing this close to him, in this small space, she noticed two things. one- he smelled really fucking good. and, two, he was so fucking tall.

y/n walked out in front of him. she crossed her arms in front of herself again, a nervous habit. once they walked out of the school, their steps fell into rhythm beside each other. stiles wanted to make conversation, and y/n did, too. but the anticipation, the hesitance, the nerves. it all took up too much space.

once they reached stiles’ blue jeep, he opened the door for her, which was slightly shocking. he tossed his bag in the back before joining her in the front. y/n found words as the car started and music playing, a little louder than normal, from the speakers. stiles turned it down, cursing and apologizing.

“what kind of music do you listen to?” y/n turned in her seat, so her knees were facing him. she placed her elbow on the arm rest, chin balanced atop her fist. stiles glanced at her, and his words stumbled.

she was pretty.

“oh, you know. your basic stuff. the 1975. backseat lovers. noah kahan. wallows,” stiles listed off a few.

“hm,” y/n replied. “alright, i can get behind that.”

stiles chuckled, “oh, yeah? what about you? you seem like a music snob.”

y/n scoffed, “absolutely not. i listen to everything and anything. even country. love taylor swift, phoebe bridgers, one direction, chappell roan.”

“i have heard of two of those artists,” stiles furrowed his brows. “literally who is chapel ro-han ?”

y/n rolled her eyes, “roan! here, give me your phone. i’ll play something by her.”

“no, wait, play some taylor,” stiles dug his phone out and handed it to y/n. “i respect swifties.”

“i feel like you’d be a swiftie,” y/n murmured as she scrolled through spotify. green flag, even though the 1975 was a blaring red one.

y/n, feeling slightly risky, played one of taylor’s more promiscuous songs- dress.

“i would be a swiftie, but i think my masculinity gets in the way,” stiles shrugged. he turned up the music a little bit. “i’ve never heard this one.”

“probably,” y/n giggled at his comment. “this is dress. it’s off the reputation album.”

“what’s your favorite album of hers?”

conversation came so naturally. y/n felt comfortable.

“oh, god, don’t ask me that,” y/n groaned. she rested stiles’ phone on her knee. “probably…reputation, to be honest. it’s some of her best work. but, lover is definitely second.”

“is that one a bunch of love songs, i take it?” stiles was really good at asking questions.

y/n shook her head, “it’s actually a bunch of heartbreak songs. people get confused because of the title. reputation has more love songs.”

“like this one?” stiles seemed to notice some of the lyrics.

y/n pursed her lips, “maybe. this one’s more of a fuck song than a love song.”

“ah, yes, there is a distinct difference.”

“oh, for sure.”

they shared a hearty laugh. stiles continued to ask questions, seemingly very interested in not only taylor swift, but y/n herself. she enjoyed his willingness to make conversation.

they made it to danny’s after two more songs. they pulled in right behind danny’s car, and watched the group pile out of his car. as stiles shut off the jeep, y/n reached for her door handle.

“wait-“ stiles jumped out of the car, and quickly rounded to her side. he opened the door, and offered her his hand.

y/n furrowed her brows. she’d seen a lot of boys do a lot to get laid. but, stiles was taking it to the extreme. stiles noticed her faltered look and motioned her with his outstretched hand.

“if we’re gonna fuck, i’m not gonna act like a dick. you deserve some basic human decency.”

literally bare fucking minimum- don’t worry, ladies, y/n is aware. but, god that melted her heart. his sweet brown eyes offered up the nicest smile.

she placed her hand in his and carefully stepped out of the jeep. it was a little higher off the ground than she was used to.

stiles shut the door behind her. he fell into step beside y/n as they walked into danny’s house. danny led the group to his basement, which was also his room. shockingly, it smelled a little bit like weed, and was dimly lit by led lights and lamps scattered across the room. his bed was against the farthest wall, and he had a common area surrounding a television right off the landing.

y/n plopped onto the first couch, and she patted the spot beside her for stiles. he followed suit, and yelped as he noticed how broken in the piece of furniture was. his shoulder squished into y/n’s, along with his hip, as he was tilted by the couch. she giggled at his clumsiness, steadying him with a hand on his knee.

stiles went red hot under her touch. it was warm, through the thin material of his sweatpants. and she didn’t take it away. no, y/n, confident in her advances, left her hand on his knee. stiles took that in stride, and swung his arm around the back of the couch, fingers inches away from her shoulders. she smelled sweet, like some fruity, beachy perfume.

scott and allison sat on the couch to their left, and jack found his usual spot on the oversized chair. danny was busying himself at the television console, flicking on netflix. he put on some random movie for background noise, and then proceeded to pass around his dab pen. jack took a couple hits, surprisingly, allison did as well. scott was shocked by the latter fact, and even more surprised when she told him she took edibles sometimes for her nerves.

stiles politely refused the weed, but y/n gratefully took a few hits. it loosened her shoulders almost immediately and made her flirtations a million times more present.

she curled her legs up beneath her on the couch, her knees landing in stiles lap. he shifted his legs beneath her, clearing his throat nervously. if someone had told him, this morning, that he’d be losing his virginity so soon- oh, god.

y/n started up a conversation that was separate from the groups. they started up a game of mario kart, while y/n was asking stiles about his favorite movies. it was hard to think with her warm breath fanning across his cheek, down his neck. and, then, she was toying with the string on his hoodie, staring up at him through her pretty lashes. her pupils were dilated from being high, and she was giggly.

stiles was beyond happy.

especially when she demanded she show him something in the other room.

“you said you like tabletop games, right? danny’s brother runs tournaments with his friends. cmon, i’ll show you!” y/n stood up, offering stiles her hand.

he didn’t hesitant to lace his fingers with hers. she drug him along behind her, quickly bee-lining for the other room in the basement. y/n flicked on a light switch, but all it really did was turn on more lamps and the string of leds across the ceiling. yes, stiles was incredibly interested by the shelves of books, knick-knacks, and the large gaming table in the center of the room.

but he didn’t really care about any of that.

because she was holding his hand, rambling about danny’s younger brother, and holding his hand. stiles just listened to her describe luke, how he was like a younger brother.

then, she noticed stiles was just staring at her. her words faltered and she trailed off. “what? am i boring you?”

“no, no, never,” stiles stepped closer, and squeezed her hand to encourage her. “i’m just…you’re really pretty. and you’re holding my hand. and i’m thinking about fucking stupid my text was, from earlier? i’m a dumb ass.”

“stiles,” y/n rolled her eyes, “you’re a really cute dumb ass. don’t worry about the text. to answer your question, though, yes.”

“yes, what?” stiles thought he knew what she meant, but he was unsure. he wanted to hear her say it.

“yes, i’m down to fuck you.”

oh, god. his knees went weak.

y/n grabbed his other hand, tugging him towards her slightly. something in her demeanor, her expression, changed. her look was darker, pointed, intentional. stiles found some courage and slid his hand up her wrist, up her forearm, over her bicep, and around the back of her neck. he brushed her hair away. as they moved closer, she leaned her head back to meet his eyes, and her head fell into his hand.

she grinned up at him, and the look made him chuckle dryly. “what?” she asked, insecurities drawing out despite her pointed confidence.

“just…so pretty,” stiles replied. using his other hand, stiles brushed the hair from her cheek, and cupped his palm around the curve of her face.

slowly, but surely, they kissed.

Need Him

Stiles x gn!reader

A/N - this is my first Stiles x reader and also my longest fic so far. Sorry if it's not great I've kinda had it in my crafts for a while :)

Sighing in frustration you hung up your phone before focusing back onto the road. This is the third phone call you'd made to Stiles, and he still hadn't answered. You pulled into the street that the Stilinski's lived and took a deep breath to try and keep your tears at bay.

You and Stiles had been dating for a month or two now, but you weren't one hundred percent in the relationship. All you wanted was to stop holding back r

You were on the run; you might have to leave at any minute. But lately you had felt yourself become closer and closer with Stiles, letting your guard down, and you weren't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Tonight, you had gotten a text from an anonymous number. It was your mum, she was coming. Soon. You didn't know what to do. You had built relationships in the town and you didn't want to leave, but you didn't want to burden the pack with your problems.

The only person that knew about your relationship with your mother was Stiles. He found you one time when you were crying. It had been the anniversary of your father's death and you weren't at school, so Stiles came looking for you. He found you at your apartment in a ball on your bed crying.

Since then, yours and Stiles’ relationship grew. He was there for you. Which was making this whole situation even harder. You could stay here in Beacon Hills with the people you love, or you could leave to protect yourself and maybe even the pack. 

You just needed Stiles.

As you pulled into his driveway you began to call Stiles again.

"Hey this is Stiles, leave a message at the-“

You grabbed the key you have to the house from your car and made your way towards the door. As you were walking up you could barely hold yourself together. It seemed like everything was crashing down building towards an initial meltdown. 

You took a shuddering breath before pushing open the door to a dark house. 

You checked your phone to see the time was 1:16. You were mindful that the sheriff was probably asleep as you tiptoed through the house and up the stairs towards Stiles' room. 

When you open the door, it was dark like the rest of the house. The only light in the room was the moon through the curtains and his alarm clock with bright red numbers. You spot his sleeping face practically passed out.

"Stiles," you croaked out. His eyes fluttered a little bit before staying closed. "Stiles." you said a bit more forcefully.

His eyes opened slowly before seeing a shadowy figure at his door. He quickly sat up getting ready to scream, looking for his baseball bat.

"Stiles! Stiles wait, it's just me.”

"What are you doing here?" He asked and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed and turning a lamp on, looking at how late it was. 

You looked at him and his concerned face and saw how much he cared for you. The dam in your mind finally broke and everything finally came crashing down.

"I- I," you stammered looking for an answer as tears fell down your face. You looked at Stiles with a broken face and he got up from his bed and brought you into a hug.

"Baby what's going on." He asked with concern in his eyes, "has something happened, are you hurt?"

The concern that shown in his eyes made you cry even harder.

"I-, it's my mum. She sent me an anonymous text saying that she found me. And now I'm going to have to leave before she finds me, and I don't know what to do and I’m freaking out cause you’re my everything and I have to leave you.” You let out a shaky breath and he brought you into a tight hug. “But maybe I'm just to co-dependent and it's become unhealthy. But I don’t even want to think about what I would do without you, but I never want to put you in harm’s way ever. And my mind is so jumbled up I just don't even know what to think anymore."

You put your head in the junction between his head and shoulder not wanting to see his face. 

"Oh baby." He muttered, pulling you closer. “You complete me and I never want you to leave.”

"Please... Please just hold me." You brokenly whispered. Stiles pulled you even closer if that was possible and started walking towards the bed.

"C'mon it's late and you need some sleep. We can talk in the morning." He said in your ear as let you go to get under the covers. You pulled off your shoes before getting in as well and resting your head on his chest. You closed your eyes and Stiles ran his fingers through your hair. 

You could hear his heartbeat in his chest lulling you to sleep. And his evening out breath. You could tell he was asleep, but your thoughts were too loud for you to sleep. 

What were you supposed to do? How could you stay and potentially put the people you love in danger? But you didn't want to leave. You had finally built relationships around you. Finally, people to call friends. Finally, people to call family. And Stiles. You couldn't describe how much he meant to you.

You looked up at him. When you look at him you see his kindness, his ambition, his determination. You saw how devoted he is to his friends; despite all the challenges he faces he's always there for them... For you. 

You remembered all the time things had been too much. All the times you just couldn't do it anymore. The times you felt like you had no-one to turn to. And in those times you saw Stiles. Every time he was there for you, no matter what. 

Tears came to your eyes as you realized how much you loved him. You leaned up to press a light kiss to his lips. You loved him, everything about him. You couldn't leave him.

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

stiles and sandman!reader blurb

a/n: this was inspired by the song “at all costs” from wish and i was going to do a full length fic but i can’t quite get it right so right now here’s a blurb! testing the waters to see if it’s smth y’all would want <3

you weren’t supposed to dream.

in all of your years, you had never dreamt. no terrifying nightmares, no reliving moments of your past, no outlandish fantasies that fleeted from your brain the second you woke. not even when you were little. it had never been unusual to you, knowing that your family were dream guardians— or more commonly known in lore, sandmen.

you weren’t sure when it had started, when the images of a boy with dark hair and equally dark eyes had started to come to you. but the longer it went on the more you grew attached, to look forward to sleep and to seeing the serene face in your dreams. there was no name, no identifying factor other than his soft features that brought you comfort rather than disturbance.

you kept it a secret. not because it was particularly dangerous or untoward ( as far as you knew ), but rather because it felt good to have something uniquely your own. and maybe because you were afraid if you told the other members of your family, the dreams would stop. and selfishly, you couldn’t let him go.

stiles had never kept track of his dreams. most of the time they were weird and nonsensical and filled with allusions to his favorite nerdy media. and they never repeated. sure, some of them had the same premise or started the same way but there was always something different about them, something that made each one different. that was, until a few months ago when he had begun to dream of a mysterious girl. the first time he figured it was a product of his imagination, a fantasy he had created to combat his lack of a relationship. but then he dreamt of her again.

and again. and again. and again.

always the same over and over. the girl frozen in time, her eyes gentle and her smile kind. she never spoke but it seemed like she wanted to. of course, he had to be going crazy. how could a figure in a dream want anything? wanting was so completely and utterly human, something he knew very well after dreaming of her for months. he wanted to know her so much it bled into his waking hours, leaving him desperate for the time he’d close his eyes and see her again.

he didn’t tell anyone. with all of the nonsense he and his friends went through, this small pocket of peace that he found in his sleep was something he wanted to keep to himself ( and maybe he was afraid they’d make fun of him for making up a literal “dream girl” ).

for months they dreamt of each other. always watching, memorizing until they could recall the features of the other as well as they could their own. neither of them understood the true depth of their connection, nor that it was real and more tangible than any dream had a right to be.

after all, the saying is “dreams do come true”.

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.

warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl

word count; +3.5k

a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me

“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”

You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.

“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”

You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.

“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”

You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”

“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”

Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.

“What about you?”

His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”

He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”

You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.

“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”

You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.

“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”

You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”

“Three-?”

“What about you?” You interrupt.

You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.

You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.

“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”

Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.

“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”

You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”

“I don’t know!”

His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.

“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”

Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.

The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.

“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.

It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.

You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.

You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.

They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.

On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.

When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.

Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.

“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.

“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”

You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.

“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”

“Stiles!”

You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.

“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.

“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.

“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.

“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”

Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.

“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.

Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.

“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”

Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.

“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.

“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.

His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.

“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.

Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.

Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.

It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.

His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.

Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.

You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.

“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”

“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”

His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.

“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”

“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.

“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”

“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”

The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.

You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.

He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.

You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.

The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.

“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”

“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”

He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.

“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”

“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.

“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.

“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, “Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”

“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.

A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.

“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”

His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.

“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”

Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.

Fireworks and Milkshakes

Teen Wolf

Request: No

Summary: Stiles x fem!reader. New Years with Stiles is chaotic.

Words: 1,637

Warnings: TENSION : ) also shitty writing :))

—

The smell of cinnamon was overpowering in the tiny living room the McCall pack was currently sitting in. Lydia insisted that whenever they were at her lake house it needed to smell and look good at all times so there was always a candle burning. Y/N sat nestled in the corner of the couch Stiles next to her, Isaac sitting on her other side in an armchair, and Kira was resting against her legs.

On the TV mainly as background noise, was the New York ball drop at Times Square. They were about two hours time away from the New Year. And hopefully, this coming year would be much better and SAFER than the last. 

“Alright, I say we make milkshakes!” Malia announced standing from her spot on the other side of the couch. Scott also got up with the girl stretching out his arms. 

“I agree, I’m practically falling asleep waiting for midnight so I think we need something to do,” he said, making everyone stand up and head to the kitchen. Lydia pulled the ingredients out for a variety of different kinds of milkshakes and clasped her hands together.

“I have an idea,” she said pulling out a couple of blenders. As to why she had more than one was a mystery yet to be solved.

“I say we have ourselves a little competition,” she smiled innocently and continued. “We split into teams of two and we try to make the best milkshake we possibly can.”

“Oh but wait we’ll need a judge!” Lydia exclaimed looking at her hands. Corey jumped up excitedly, “Mason and I will judge! Right, Mason?”

“Uh, yeah sure sounds like fun,” Mason smiled at his boyfriend.

“Okay everyone split off and I’ll start a timer so we don’t miss the count down,” Lydia said walking off to grab her phone from the living room. 

Scott and Kira paired up obviously, they’d been dating for nearly two and a half years, they were a well-oiled machine! 

Malia and Isaac paired, they hadn’t known each other long but they got along fine, they’d even gone bowling together once so what could go wrong, right? 

Liam and Theo teamed up as per usual, since the whole ghost rider incident they’d grown quite close and they had been going out for about a month after they realized there was something more to their relationship. 

Jordan waited patiently by the island for Lydia to return so they could pair together as well, them also dating. It seemed as if everyone in the pack had someone so that just left Stiles and Y/N to team up, best friends since kindergarten.

“Well, Stilinski which flavor should we go for?” Y/N smiled at him walking to one of the free blenders. He rested on the counter and tilted his head to look at her. 

“I say strawberry, but feel free to argue if you have a better idea,” he turned and rested his back against the countertop to get a better look at Y/N. His sleeves of the plaid her currently adorned were rolled up to his elbows. Showing off his defined forearms. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at the skin displayed. She lost her train of thought for a brief moment.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, strawberry sounds delicious, and maybe we can add dark chocolate pieces and fresh strawberries and start with a Vanilla base?” She pulled herself together. Stiles nodded just as Lydia returned iPhone in manicured hand. 

“Alright, I’ll set the timer so we have just enough time to go out and light fireworks,” she clicked on her screen and everyone got into position, including Mason and Corey who took seats at the island and pulled out their phones to pass the time.

“On your mark, get set, GO!” Lydia announced. Everyone began fixing their frosty treats.

Stiles and Y/N wasted no time grabbing their ingredients. They barely even spoke seeming to read each other’s minds or at least that’s what it looked like on the outside. Y/N began chopping strawberries and Stiles broke up the chocolate. 

By the end, their shake looked simply to die for. Kira and Scott’s looked amazing as well, along with Lydia and Jordan’s. Theo and Liam argued basically the entire time like an old married couple and barely finished a simple chocolate shake. Malia and Isaac somehow managed to spill their shake getting it all over themselves, Malia taking Isaac’s face and smearing a line across his forehead chanting, “Simba.” Which in turn made everyone cackle madly with laughter.

Liam and Theo managed to win the competition somehow, and it is still dumbfounding to think about. Corey said something about not being able to beat the classics and Liam said love was their secret ingredient which made Theo roll his eyes violently. 

About 15 minutes before the ball drop they all shuffled outside in jackets to light the singular firework they had gotten from very understocked Walmart. The firework was a brilliant green and gold which was quite beautiful actually in Y/N’s opinion. After that, they cracked out the sparklers, and Stiles and Y/N waved them at each other like wands pretending to battle. Stiles claimed to have won but Y/N disagreed saying nobody could beat her at a magic duel, Stiles reluctantly agreed due to her puppy dog eyes. 

Now they were all back in the living room 5 minutes from the ball drop and the New Year.

“I still think our shake was the best,” Y/N complained. Stiles nodded along slinging an arm across the back of the couch next to her head. 

“No way, Stiles put ninety percent dark chocolate in. That shit was bitter as hell. My taste buds still haven’t recovered,” you could practically see the pain in Mason’s eyes.

“I think it still tasted okay,” Y/N patted Stiles’ thigh making him jump a tad. Scott laughed at him silently. The heat from Stiles’ arm against Y/N’s neck was quite distracting for her so she barely could comprehend what he was trying to say to her. Lydia walked over to the stereo system during this and turned on some music.

“Huh? What’d ya say?” She asked. Stiles rolled his eyes and his hand rested on her shoulder further clouding her thoughts. Did he know what he did to her? Probably not he was dense as a brick. 

“I asked what your resolution is?” He repeated. She thought for a moment trying her best to gather her thoughts again.

“I want to go into the year doing something new I think,” she replied hesitantly.

“And how would that be?” Stiles asked her. He was so close she could feel his breath on her ear and neck.

“I’m not… I’m not sure yet,” she looked at her hands.

“Well good luck with that then, Y/N/N,” he said holding her hand. This was common for them, physical intimacy that was. At least PLATONIC intimacy, hand-holding, blowing kisses, etc. Nothing had ever happened between the childhood friends but they both secretly longed for each other. Pining since their freshman year for one another.

Y/N let out a sigh as Stiles leaned in close again.

“Only a minute until the New Year you better figure out that resolution of yours soon,” he laughs a lopsided grin on his face. They turned towards each other preparing for the countdown. They had agreed earlier that they’d give each other a quick peck at midnight not wanting to be left out seeing as they were basically surrounded by couples. Everyone knew their plan so they weren’t worried about kissing in front of the pair and making them feel bad or something like that. 

“Alright! Ten! Nine! Eight!” Everyone cheered.

“You still want to do this no second thoughts?” Stiles asked Y/N. She nodded quickly.

“A quick peck. In and out. Easy peasy. And then everything is back to normal,” she looked down again at their hands. Stiles frowned but it went unnoticed by Y/N.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! ONE!” 

Stiles kept his free hand by his waist unsure as to where to keep it and Y/N’s hand went to the back of his neck pulling him in. They stayed still for a moment awkwardly. The kiss was rigid and unmoving, but as Y/N’s fingers went into Stiles’ hair and they began to actually kiss Stiles’ palm rested on the side of her face and the kiss was deepened. His hand slide down her jawline and he held her tightly. Y/N’s face tilted up into his and her other hand let go of his other and she ran her hand through his hair pulling him in impossibly closer and draping her arm over his shoulder. His free hand went to the back of her head and he stroked her hair. Y/N was on fire she was burning under the soft touches of his fingertips. She burned for him.

He finally pulled away, Y/N following his head but he held her back slightly wanting to get a word in.

“You taste like strawberries,” he said airly. She laughed trying to pull back.

“You are so stupi-” He went in again cutting her off and they burnt together. Y/N’s hands fell to his cheeks and she smiled slightly.

“I only think of you,” she whispered. He hummed pushing a strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes were still closed as she relished in their closeness.

“I completed my resolution,” She said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I went into the new year doing something new didn’t I?”

“I suppose so, Y/N,” he smiled. Their friends sat staring at the pair with wide eyes.

“Finally,” Lydia rolled her eyes. Everyone agreeing.

“Oh shut up,” Y/N laughed. Stiles looked at her with adoration.

“I’m glad you chose me to go into the new year with,” he nudged her nose.

—

TAGLIST: @speedymaximoff @magnet-girl @siennanoelle01 @nani-2305​ 

Ok so when you said that you were throwing a brick, I didn't realize it was at my fucking heart! What the hell was that? Why must you always make me so emotional 😔

TRUTHS || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Stiles in the golden retriever, the guy who's always there for you, the one who'd do anything and everything for you. But no one's perfect, and you don't expect him to be, it just takes you some time to see Stiles' truth.

Memo— Sorry not sorry that I'm throwing this brick at you

Word Count — 967

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

You always thought Stiles was the good one. Not in the perfect way, not in the "straight-A student, never-does-anything-wrong" way, but in the genuine, loyal, heart-of-gold way. The guy who’d trip over himself to help a stranger, who’d give you the last piece of pizza without a second thought, who’d stay up all night researching monsters so no one else had to. And for a long time, you saw him like that—this jittery, awkward, deeply lovable hurricane of a person, always doing, always caring, always there.

And he is all that. With you? He’s golden. With Scott? He’s fiercely, stubbornly, stupidly devoted. With his dad? He’s still that kid trying to hold the world together with duct tape and caffeine so it doesn’t crush the only parent he has left.

He remembers things about you—tiny things you didn’t even think you remembered telling him. You’ll mention you had a rough day once, and three weeks later he’s showing up with your favourite snack and a dumb movie queued up because “I figured the vibes were off, and I hate when the vibes are off.” He’ll drive to your house just to sit in silence when you don’t feel like talking. He buys your favourite pens when you lose them, makes playlists for your moods, sets reminders to check in on things that matter to you. It’s not just that he’s nice—it’s that he’s invested.

With Scott, it’s a kind of brotherhood that’s almost religious. He’ll talk shit, yeah, but the second anyone else does? He’s up. Instantly. Doesn’t matter if it’s someone stronger, bigger, more dangerous—Stiles has already calculated the fallout and decided it’s worth it. He’ll complain the whole time, but he’ll never back down if Scott needs him. Even when Scott doesn’t say it out loud. Especially then.

With his dad, it’s this complicated mix of reverence and protectiveness. He pushes boundaries, sure, but there’s always a line he won’t cross. He teases and rolls his eyes, but you’ve seen the way he watches the sheriff’s face when he walks into a room, always scanning for stress, exhaustion, signs of something off. He cooks dinner when his dad works late. He cleans the house on autopilot without being asked. He never says it, but he carries that family like it’s his personal mission to keep it afloat.

But the thing is… once you’re close enough to really know him—past the surface, past the quick wit and loyalty—you start to see the edges. The parts no one really talks about.

Stiles is not actually nice. Not to most people. He’s polite when he needs to be, friendly when it serves a purpose, but if you’re not in his circle? If you’re not one of his people? He doesn't care. At all.

He doesn’t make small talk. He doesn’t go out of his way to help unless someone he loves is involved. You’ve seen him ignore people mid-sentence because they were boring him. He gets impatient fast, and once he decides someone’s not worth his energy, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

He’s not mean in the obvious, stereotypical way. It’s subtle. Calculated. He knows how to cut people down without raising his voice. He uses sarcasm like a scalpel, and if someone’s unlucky enough to get on his bad side, he doesn’t yell—he eviscerates.

One time, a classmate made a shitty comment about Scott’s mom. Stiles didn’t lash out. Didn’t even react at first. Just filed it away. And two days later, he dropped a series of comments in a group setting so casually devastating that the kid left school early and didn’t show up the next day. Stiles didn’t even blink. “Shouldn’t talk shit if you’re made of glass,” he muttered, like it was nothing.

And when people call him out? He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t apologize. Just shrugs and moves on. It’s like he doesn’t feel the need to justify being cold to people who aren’t inside his carefully constructed world.

And maybe you should care about that. Maybe you should find it concerning. But you don’t.

Because you’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Never once.

When you’re sad, he’s gentle. When you’re angry, he lets you rage. When you’re happy, he celebrates you, like your joy is a personal victory. He touches you in these thoughtless, casual ways that are so full of care—fingers brushing yours when he passes you something, knees bumping under the table, an arm slung lazily across your shoulders like he’s grounding himself by just being near you.

You’ve seen him lose sleep over you being sick. Seen him unravel when you cried. Seen him light up when you walked into a room like the world had just snapped back into colour.

He tells you things he doesn’t tell anyone else. Fears. Regrets. Doubts. There’s a soft version of Stiles that lives only in your presence, one who trusts you enough to be quiet, who lets himself need.

And you think—that’s the real difference. Stiles doesn’t trust easy. He’s not generous with his softness. The world has taken too much from him too many times, and now? He doesn’t give pieces of himself to people who won’t hold them carefully.

But for the ones he loves—for you, for Scott, for his dad—he gives everything.

So yeah. He’s kind of a mean guy. Kind of petty. Sharp-tongued. Impatient. Defensive.

But he’s also the guy who would crawl through hell if it meant dragging you out of it. Who shows up even when he’s exhausted. Who notices everything, remembers everything, loves with the kind of intensity that’s messy and complicated and real.

He’s not perfect. Not even close.

But you never needed perfect.

You just needed him.

Here's a little pep talk from Stiles 💜:

"Hey... Hey, look at me. Life sucks, I know. It's horrible. It's a big, ugly, mean monster with sharp teeth and a really bad comb-over and- ok, I'm getting off-topic, sorry. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that there's probably always going to be something bad happening, but there will also always be something good.

"No, no, don't look away. Eyes up here, remember? There we go. Much better. So, like I was saying, there's good stuff out there too. It can be hard to find, especially these days, but it's there. Just... take a moment to look for it. Take a nice, long, deep breath, and look around for a second. It doesn't have to be anything crazy. Maybe the wind is blowing in your favor to show off how hot you are, I don't know. It could be anything.

"And in really dire situations, because, yeah, there's plenty of those around here, look inside yourself. I know it's scary, I don't like doing it either. But the more you do it, the easier it'll get. Start small. Like... What's one thing you tolerate about yourself? You don't have to love it or like it, it's just something you're ok with. You've come to terms with its existence.

"Then, move on to something you do like. Even just a little bit. Come on, don't look at me like that! You're smarter than you think you are, there's gotta be a bunch of things. Alright, it's ok if there's not yet, but there will be eventually! We'll work on that.

"Now, as much as I love giving you all the love in my heart, you gotta give yourself some of the love you have in your heart too. I can't take all the credit, that would be greedy. Besides, have you seen yourself!? My God, I could pass out at any second, I'm serious! And even if you aren't vibing with the physical stuff, you have so many lovable qualities and talents that blow my mind every single day. You're not a useless blob of goo, ok? You're beautiful - inside and out - and special. You're very precious to me and so many others, even if they don't tell as often as they should.

"You're doing great, I promise. You're trying, that's all we can do, you know? Everything's gonna be ok. Well, eventually. It might seem like forever, but it'll happen, I know it. I love you so much."

Sorry to ruin everyone's day, but Stiles holds hands when he cries, without a doubt.

Maybe he holds his love's soft palm against his own cheek while he speaks with a tremble, using it as a tether to help him work through his emotions. Their hands are practically soaked from all of his tears, but he doesn't even notice. He's only focused on her and all the love he feels radiating from her touch.

Or maybe she's sitting with him while he waits for his appointment with his therapist after a long, hard day. He squeezes her hand, trying to take deep breaths and ignore how much his leg is shaking. He wipes his face of the tears that escape with a bit of annoyance at his vulnerability in a public space. Sure, there's only a few other people in there with them, and they're all there for the same reason - to get help - but Stiles has always been good at bottling his emotions up. Why couldn't he do it now?

And especially during his panic attacks, when every muscle in his body feels like it's on fire and when his lungs can't grasp the air he's reaching for, he uses both of his hands to hold onto hers, so tightly that they shake. Sometimes he presses their hold against his chest or his forehead, needing to know that it's real, she's real, she's there with him.

Also, just imagine little Scott holding little Stiles' hand as they walk home from their elementary school after getting into another fight with the biggest bully in the second grade. Maybe boys aren't "supposed to" hold hands, like everyone says when they're eight years old and clueless. Stiles doesn't care, though, he knows he needs this (yes, he waited until they were in his neighborhood, away from any curious gazes).

The moral of the story is that sweet, sweet Stiles needs physical touch to survive. Everything becomes easier when he has a hand to hold, and this goes far beyond just crying.

Effort for Love ❤️

Word count: 1,078

Happy Valentine's Day!

Stiles had it all planned out. It was going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever. It had to be; it was their first spent together as a couple. Some (Isaac) might say he was taking it too seriously, but he strongly disagreed. It was his duty to make his girlfriend feel as special and loved as possible.

With a big smile, he drove to the surprise destination, stubbornly refusing to answer all of her questions. She was radiating with excitement in the passenger seat – she had never had someone so dedicated to her happiness. It took all of her strength not to peek under the blanket in the backseat which was clearly hiding a menagerie of items for their date.

She was giddy, and seeing that on her face made Stiles giddy too. He did that. He was the one who was making her feel that way. And knowing that was the best feeling in the world. 

“Can I at least get a hint or something? I need to mentally prepare!” 

“Absolutely not. And don’t worry about mentally preparing, you’ll be very relaxed, I promise.” Stiles spoke with a calm yet adamant voice, though he couldn’t ignore his nerves. This was a big moment for him.  

“Oh, I’ll be relaxed? Does this mean there’s a massage in my future?” she teased. 

He smirked. “Maybe later if your gift is as good as I think it’s going to be.” He glanced at the neatly wrapped box sitting in her lap, filled with all of his favorite goodies and the new video game disk he’s had his eye on for his Xbox. She knows him better than he’d like to admit. 

“Well, I guess we both just have to wait and find out then.” 

“I guess so.” 

The next ten or so minutes were peaceful, their chatting and laughter filled the air. That was until an unsettling screech made a bold interruption. Before they knew it, the Jeep was slowing down. Stiles instinctively pulled off the mostly empty highway.  See, he took a route that he knew she wouldn’t recognize, one that most wouldn’t take on a holiday because it leads away from town and past all the popular scenic spots. 

The poor guy was trying not to panic. He had just recently gotten major work done on the vehicle, so watching it break down yet again was beyond frustrating. He put it in park and stepped out with a huff, closing the door with a little bit more force than he meant to. Steam flowed from the front of the Jeep as he lifted the hood, making him cough a couple of times. 

Seeing his anger and devastation as he cursed out his car was worrying for his girlfriend. She knew that he had spent over a week planning this, but she started to truly realize how much he truly wanted to do this for her as she, too, stepped out, making her way to his side. 

“Stiles-” 

He shook his head, looking at her with sincere remorse as he interjected. “No, look, I’m sorry. I know you were excited and this kind of ruins everything I had planned, but we could try again another day, you know? We could have another Valentine’s Day next week and just forget everything-” 

She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Yes, he had always been hard on himself, but this was just ridiculous. “What? No. Stiles, I don’t care if it’s not perfect or not exactly how you planned, weren’t not just going to throw it all away. We still have time; we still have the whole evening.” 

“Yeah, but we’re not going to make it to the beach in time for sunset and a tow truck could take hours, maybe all night!” he blurted, his frustration at the situation still growing. 

Warmth filled her cheeks and a soft smile grew on her face. “You were taking me to the beach for the sunset?” she said delicately. Her heart had never felt so full. 

“Yes,” he sighed. His hand then gestured toward the still steaming Jeep as he spoke, saying, “Yeah, I was… Until this stupid piece of-” 

“You’re the most adorable, romantic, sweet, and loving man in the world.” Her words were filled with such sincerity that Stiles froze, his face turning to the same rosy red as hers. 

“Wha-… Really? You’re not, like, mad or something?” For some incomprehensible reason, he was struggling to believe the situation at hand. How could she be so understanding? Why was she so calm? And smiling? What the hell was going on? 

“Of course I’m not mad,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Why would I be mad when I have the world’s perfect boyfriend all to myself on Valentine’s Day?” 

He was faltering, his hands barely making contact with her waist. “I’m not perfect…” 

Her lips were firmly pressed against his instantly. “Shut up. Yes, you are.” 

Stiles was floating, a nervous, blushing mess. How did he get so lucky? 

After a little more convincing, Stiles agreed to go through with his plan on the side of the highway instead of the beach since they were still miles away. He made his girlfriend wait in the passenger seat with her eyes closed (he was very firm about that) while he moved the blanket from the backseat to the pavement and set up the red candles, red and pink flowers, sandwiches he made himself, and boxes of chocolates for dessert.  

The scene in front of her when she opened her eyes was straight out of a romance movie. She was practically speechless as she moved towards the blanket to sit with her beau, both of them grinning uncontrollably. The evening turned out to be the most magical moment imaginable, beginning with a call with the towing company, of course. They spent the five-hour wait basking in the love they had for each other and the sunset that still made an appearance.  

When it became too cold to sit outside any longer, they packed up and sat in the Jeep again, where Stiles opened his gift with glee. He nearly crushed her ribcage with the bear hug he gave her. And yes, it earned her a massage, of sorts, in the backseat.  

Curled up against each other under the blanket, they exchanged handwritten love letters and read them out loud to each other, closing their very romantic date with a loving bang.

How do you think stiles would react to finding out his gf was cheated on in the past?

He gets busy and forgets to let her know he’ll be late to their movie night and she immediately assumes the worst and he’s shocked to find her upset and self conscious and insecure when he finally makes it home.

I bet he would feel so bad even though he genuinely didn’t do anything. He would be absolutely flabbergasted that anyone would dare step out on her. He would probably even get genuinely angry at the idiot when she tells the full story.

Oh my gosh, this is so sad yet sweet at the same time!

Since he doesn't already know that she was cheated on, walking in to see her in tears and unable to keep eye contact with him would be beyond confusing and concerning for him. He'd rush over to her, immediately wanting to hold her and talk everything out, asking what was wrong, only to painfully watch her take a step back from him.

"Where were you, Stiles? Where the hell were you?" she'd sob out, keeping a cautious hand between them.

He'd be thrown off by the question, not expecting an interrogation and stuttering his words out. "I-I was just helping Scott with a lead after practice, that's it, I swear..."

"Call him." she'd order, trying to sound like she has a grip on the situation, but her insecurity is evident.

"What?"

"Call him!" At this point, she's desperate, needing certainty and concrete proof that he's telling the truth.

Stiles almost jumps, still so confused about why she's so upset. "Ok, ok, I'm calling him right now. See?" He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it so she can see what he's doing. He calls Scott right away.

Without giving him any context or revealing her presence, Stiles asks him to tell him all about their previous whereabouts. Scott speaks casually and simply but is clearly lost on why he's doing this. However, she knows he's telling the truth because he's not really known for his lying abilities...

Stiles hangs up right after she gets her proof. "There. Do you believe me now? Or can you at least tell me what's wrong? I hate seeing you like this, you know I hate it when y-" He stops at the feeling of her body practically crashing into his as she clings to him tightly, letting a few more soft sobs out. His mind goes blank for a second before he gets his bearings and wraps his arms around her in a firm embrace. "Hey... It's ok. I got you. Just talk to me. What's going on?"

With a shaky voice, she tells him everything. Certain details are harder to get out than others, so at some point, Stiles leads them to the couch, still holding her close as she curls up against his chest.

Empathizing with people can be hard for Stiles sometimes, but never with his sweet angel. A menagerie of emotions swirls inside of him as he listens to her well - guilt, anger, disgust, sympathy, protectiveness, the list goes on and on.

He gently holds her face in his hands, looking straight into her eyes as he makes her a promise to never do anything horrible like that to her, to never show her any disrespect, to always be faithful to her, and to always let her know if he'll be running late from then on.

Still cradling her against him, they decide to watch something innocent and peaceful, and land on Bambi. Stiles will never admit it, but he teared up at the mother's death, squeezing her even tighter. Thankfully, she fell asleep before the movie ended

Thank you so much for your submission! I'm pretty sure I switched tenses halfway through, but I am far too tired to reread and edit this... My apologies, we'll all just have to deal with it. 💜

Dairy Queen Dream

Word count: 1,030

I'm so sorry that this took me so long to write, but here it finally is! Big thanks to @sleepyminyard for the encouragement! I'm considering making a second part someday, but I'll let you guys decide. Also, if you've seen American Assassin, I used Victor's name and description (kinda) from that movie to help myself visualize better. My sincerest apologies for the slight angst, but I hope you enjoy!

Stiles walked into work with a sigh. He was officially an employee of Dairy Queen for a whole week, though it already felt like it had been a year. He thought working at a fast-food establishment would be easy; he was wrong. Training nearly killed him, thanks to that stupid ice cream machine. Maybe it was his clumsiness that made using it such a struggle, but he believed the thing had it out for him. If his Jeep wasn’t in grave shambles and didn’t require every penny he had, he might consider walking away and finding some other job. But alas, Dairy Queen was a necessary evil. 

He supposed it was sort of fun sometimes. He enjoyed discreetly tossing a few bits of candy into his mouth now and then, and talking to the costumers in the drive-thru with the headset made him feel like he was receiving orders from his captain on a spaceship.  

However, he already had six little burns on his poor fingers from the fry oil, and he accidentally exploded another blizzard yesterday – the fourth one thus far. The manager gave him a warning, but they both knew that Beacon Hills’ DQ was quite understaffed. They needed him, or someone like him. Stiles was the only applicant in many months.  

Hearing the bell above the door chime, signaling that another customer was entering, he made his way over to the counter, not paying any attention to what was in front of him. “Welcome to Dairy Queen. What can I get for y-” Stiles froze as his eyes made contact with hers.  

Just looking at her made his face flush, turning a deep red, and his hands suddenly felt clammy. He had never seen someone with such pure beauty. Every little detail pierced him as his gaze took her in. She was almost overwhelming.  

Her smile at the awkward moment reeled him back in and he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Sorry, uh... How can I help you?” 

As she gave him her order with that euphonious voice, he felt dizzy. And when the blizzard she asked for was the exact same as his favorite (since he was five years old), he almost felt out of breath. He couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his face. Stiles was smitten! 

He could see it all, right then and there: the sparkling ring he’d put on her finger, the long white dress she’d wear, the quaint home they’d live in together, the fuzzy puppy they’d adopt. Everything would’ve been perfect. Until he watched painfully as a tall, well-built, Ryan Gosling lookalike wrapped an arm around her waist and began listing his order too.  

A pit formed in Stiles’ stomach, making him nauseous. He knew nothing about the guy, yet he already hated him. He unknowingly blocked out everything he said, too busy with the jealousy that began to spark inside of him.  

He rubbed his forehead, trying to get his bearings. “Um, what was that?” 

An annoyed sigh left the ‘man’ before he recited his order again: the most disgusting concoction Stiles had ever heard. Yep, he definitely hated him.  

Stiles stared at him from around the corner as he made his blizzard, s He was too consumed to notice his hands drifting away from the mixer, causing ice cream to splatter everywhere, including all over him. “Fuck, not again...” he muttered, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in frustration. The only bright side was that it wasn’t her blizzard that exploded.  

That stupid guy had the nerve to look over and laugh, pointing a finger at poor Stiles. “Oh shit! Is it baby’s first day? Do you need a napkin?” he mocked, followed by more obnoxious laughter. 

Holding back because he knew his manager was in his office, Stiles bit his lip. To his surprise, a voice did come through to defend him. 

“Knock it off, Victor. He’s just trying to do his job.” The angel of a girl stepped in front of him and urged him to take a seat in one of the booths. She then looked back at Stiles and gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile, which he returned. “I’m really sorry about him.” 

“It’s alright. I’d probably laugh too.” 

“Maybe, but that wasn’t just a laugh...” She lowered her voice as she continued, embarrassed by her boyfriend’s actions, “That was an outburst.” 

Stiles suddenly felt horrible for her. The look on her face showed that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and the guilt she clearly felt wasn’t fair. Everything inside of him told him to hop over the counter and save her – run away with her, hug her close, and make her feel safe, loved, and appreciated. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, and Victor looked like he could knock him out with one good punch. 

“Hey, really, it’s ok. Don’t feel bad on his behalf.” 

Her smile partially returned. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure he gives you a good tip.” 

“Alright, I’m looking forward to it,” he said, chuckling. 

With that, Stiles quickly wiped up what he could and made a new blizzard for the douchebag, this time without making a massive mess and a fool of himself. Once all of their order was together, he carried the trays to their table, making sure to flip both of the blizzards. He completely ignored Victor’s existence and focused on the beautiful smiling angel instead.  

Walking away was harder than he thought it would be. In the short amount of time since he met her, he somehow grew attached to her. He couldn’t explain why or how, but he knew he felt something strong for her.  

He decided that watching her enjoy a meal with that scum was too much for him to bear, so he went on his lunch break and got some fresh air outside. He hoped that he’d at least see her lovely face one more time before they left, but when he came back inside, they were gone, just a crumpled ten-dollar bill left in their place, and his heart cracked. Stiles had no idea if he’d ever see her again, but he certainly hoped so.  

Dairy Queen Dream

Word count: 1,030

I'm so sorry that this took me so long to write, but here it finally is! Big thanks to @sleepyminyard for the encouragement! I'm considering making a second part someday, but I'll let you guys decide. Also, if you've seen American Assassin, I used Victor's name and description (kinda) from that movie to help myself visualize better. My sincerest apologies for the slight angst, but I hope you enjoy!

Stiles walked into work with a sigh. He was officially an employee of Dairy Queen for a whole week, though it already felt like it had been a year. He thought working at a fast-food establishment would be easy; he was wrong. Training nearly killed him, thanks to that stupid ice cream machine. Maybe it was his clumsiness that made using it such a struggle, but he believed the thing had it out for him. If his Jeep wasn’t in grave shambles and didn’t require every penny he had, he might consider walking away and finding some other job. But alas, Dairy Queen was a necessary evil. 

He supposed it was sort of fun sometimes. He enjoyed discreetly tossing a few bits of candy into his mouth now and then, and talking to the costumers in the drive-thru with the headset made him feel like he was receiving orders from his captain on a spaceship.  

However, he already had six little burns on his poor fingers from the fry oil, and he accidentally exploded another blizzard yesterday – the fourth one thus far. The manager gave him a warning, but they both knew that Beacon Hills’ DQ was quite understaffed. They needed him, or someone like him. Stiles was the only applicant in many months.  

Hearing the bell above the door chime, signaling that another customer was entering, he made his way over to the counter, not paying any attention to what was in front of him. “Welcome to Dairy Queen. What can I get for y-” Stiles froze as his eyes made contact with hers.  

Just looking at her made his face flush, turning a deep red, and his hands suddenly felt clammy. He had never seen someone with such pure beauty. Every little detail pierced him as his gaze took her in. She was almost overwhelming.  

Her smile at the awkward moment reeled him back in and he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Sorry, uh... How can I help you?” 

As she gave him her order with that euphonious voice, he felt dizzy. And when the blizzard she asked for was the exact same as his favorite (since he was five years old), he almost felt out of breath. He couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his face. Stiles was smitten! 

He could see it all, right then and there: the sparkling ring he’d put on her finger, the long white dress she’d wear, the quaint home they’d live in together, the fuzzy puppy they’d adopt. Everything would’ve been perfect. Until he watched painfully as a tall, well-built, Ryan Gosling lookalike wrapped an arm around her waist and began listing his order too.  

A pit formed in Stiles’ stomach, making him nauseous. He knew nothing about the guy, yet he already hated him. He unknowingly blocked out everything he said, too busy with the jealousy that began to spark inside of him.  

He rubbed his forehead, trying to get his bearings. “Um, what was that?” 

An annoyed sigh left the ‘man’ before he recited his order again: the most disgusting concoction Stiles had ever heard. Yep, he definitely hated him.  

Stiles stared at him from around the corner as he made his blizzard, s He was too consumed to notice his hands drifting away from the mixer, causing ice cream to splatter everywhere, including all over him. “Fuck, not again...” he muttered, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in frustration. The only bright side was that it wasn’t her blizzard that exploded.  

That stupid guy had the nerve to look over and laugh, pointing a finger at poor Stiles. “Oh shit! Is it baby’s first day? Do you need a napkin?” he mocked, followed by more obnoxious laughter. 

Holding back because he knew his manager was in his office, Stiles bit his lip. To his surprise, a voice did come through to defend him. 

“Knock it off, Victor. He’s just trying to do his job.” The angel of a girl stepped in front of him and urged him to take a seat in one of the booths. She then looked back at Stiles and gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile, which he returned. “I’m really sorry about him.” 

“It’s alright. I’d probably laugh too.” 

“Maybe, but that wasn’t just a laugh...” She lowered her voice as she continued, embarrassed by her boyfriend’s actions, “That was an outburst.” 

Stiles suddenly felt horrible for her. The look on her face showed that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and the guilt she clearly felt wasn’t fair. Everything inside of him told him to hop over the counter and save her – run away with her, hug her close, and make her feel safe, loved, and appreciated. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, and Victor looked like he could knock him out with one good punch. 

“Hey, really, it’s ok. Don’t feel bad on his behalf.” 

Her smile partially returned. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure he gives you a good tip.” 

“Alright, I’m looking forward to it,” he said, chuckling. 

With that, Stiles quickly wiped up what he could and made a new blizzard for the douchebag, this time without making a massive mess and a fool of himself. Once all of their order was together, he carried the trays to their table, making sure to flip both of the blizzards. He completely ignored Victor’s existence and focused on the beautiful smiling angel instead.  

Walking away was harder than he thought it would be. In the short amount of time since he met her, he somehow grew attached to her. He couldn’t explain why or how, but he knew he felt something strong for her.  

He decided that watching her enjoy a meal with that scum was too much for him to bear, so he went on his lunch break and got some fresh air outside. He hoped that he’d at least see her lovely face one more time before they left, but when he came back inside, they were gone, just a crumpled ten-dollar bill left in their place, and his heart cracked. Stiles had no idea if he’d ever see her again, but he certainly hoped so.  

Mollified

Word count: 799

Note: The beginning of this is kind of sad, so I apologize, but I did my best to make the ending fluffy because that's what everyone decided on (in this poll). I can't tell if this sucks... I tried though, so oh well.

Feeling his body tremble from his soft sobs was devastating. Every tear that fell was another crack in her broken heart. She wished she knew what to do or say to make it all better for her sweet Stiles. 

It had been a long, grueling week, particularly for him. Between attending school, playing lacrosse, battling the supernatural, being a good, and supporting his girlfriend, he couldn’t find the time to process emotions, and resorted to shoving them downward instead. This was a horrible habit he knew he had, but Stiles didn’t try to break it because he didn’t know how to address it. There was always something more important he had to do. 

So, he was back where he was every few weeks, laying stomach-down on his girlfriend’s bed with his face buried into lap as he finally let himself feel. Exhaustion, frustration, disappointment, sadness, and hopelessness poured out of his soul, nearly drowning him.  

She did everything she could to soothe his tense muscles and labored breathing – combing her fingers through his already disheveled hair, rubbing his back and shoulder blades, and whispering the insufficient words of comfort that came to mind – but this was out of both of their control. Although, he did feel a sense of safety with his face pressed against her thighs, as if it was a shelter for his tears.  

All he could do was ride out the episode, a necessary evil to reset himself and empty that jar in the dark corner of his heart that was reserved for emotions he didn’t want or couldn’t be bothered with. Unfortunately, this ride was not on a clear path, but rather one with ups and downs, and bumps and twists. Some points were much more intense and painful, while others were softer and sadder. Time was unidentifiable.  

Eventually, his torment faded away and his usually light gradually began to fill him again. She gave him the time he needed to completely calm down and regain his strength, so Stiles stayed where he was while his breathing evened out and his heartbeat returned to a normal pace. He was grateful that her soft gestures continued on. It was truly astonishing that she never ceased, showing her patience and dedication to him with every movement.  

Suddenly, he lifted his head up to look into her eyes with his swollen red ones. “Do you want to go get some ice cream?” 

Of all things, she was not expecting this. She stared back at him with confusion, questioning his sanity yet again. “What? Right now?” she managed to say. 

“Yeah,” he responded simply, sniffling. 

“Um... I mean, yeah, we can, but are you ok?” She was clearly still concerned; who wouldn’t be after everything she just witnessed seconds ago? 

He sniffled again before speaking again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Let’s go get some ice cream.” A little smile began growing on his lips, causing the same to happen to his girlfriend. 

“Alright, but Stiles-” 

“I’ll be absolutely perfect as soon as you let me buy us some ice cream, ok?” he insisted as he sat up right in front of her. 

“Wait, no, you can’t pay.” 

“And why’s that?”  

“Because I’m taking care of you tonight.” She scowled just slightly at his smirk. 

“No, you already did take care of me,” he persisted, leaning in kiss her lips gently. “It’s my turn now, and I want ice cream.” 

She was flustered, very flustered, but couldn’t say no to him, especially after his kiss. So, she reluctantly gave in. “Fine. But are you sure you’re ok? Do you need to talk about anything?” 

Stiles was already getting up and putting his hand out for her to take, helping her up. “Maybe on the way we can chat a little, but seriously, I’m good. All thanks to you.” 

Smiling, he pulled her closer by her waist. It wasn’t fair that he knew exactly how to make her melt. He had complete control over her in a hypnotizing way, and she loved it. She couldn’t explain it with words, but she was addicted to his, well, everything. 

After a lovely drive and a bit of chatting, Stiles bought them they’re favorite ice cream, as promised, and they enjoyed it between more kisses while sitting in the Jeep. As much as he loved treats, she was his favorite treat of all. 

“You’re delicious, you know that?” 

“Shut up, you weirdo.” 

“I can see you blushing. It might be dark outside, but I can still see it. Don’t be ashamed of how delicious you are.” 

“Stiles, I will throw your cone out of this window right now if you don’t shut the hell up.” 

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.” 

And just like that, Stiles was back to his normal, whacky self. 

「bf!Stiles headcanons」 pt2

bf!Stiles that sits behind you in class, so that he can play with your hair when he is bored

bf!Stiles that learns how to cook from your mom: Claudia passed away when Stiles was only a kid and, like many other kids, he was not really interested on learning how to cook (something he still regrets to this day) so she never had the chance to teach him... after finding out about his mom, yours decided to teach him dishes you like the most and Stiles will be always grateful to her for that. Once, while they were baking, he bursted into tears cause the smell of the chocolate cake in the oven reminded him that Claudia used to bake it for him when he was younger, your mom didn't say anything, she simply hugged him and from that moment on, Stiles saw her as an adoptive mom.

bf!Stiles that has a hate relationship with your male cat, it always takes his spot on your bed and hits him with its paws while you two sleep! the worse thing is that you don't believe him when Stiles says your cat is evil because it always makes these things when you're not watching and with you behaves like the most perfect angel, he swears the cat smirks at him when you hug it to sleep instead of him

bf!Stiles that shuts your bedroom's door in front of your cat's face after you fall asleep

bf!Stiles that softly tries to hush you back to sleep when you wake up because of the mewls outside of your room

bf!Stiles that fails and is hit with a pillow by you

bf!Stiles that has to watch your cat snuggle into you with satisfied purrs (he KNOWS it's purring to spite him.)

bf!Stiles that tries to intimidate the cat by asking Scott to use his 'alpha aura', the motherfucker isn't impressed by the alpha at all

bf!Stiles that hates when you say 'love you' instead of 'I love you'... it feels incomplete and hurried

bf!Stiles that frames every doodle you make on his notebooks and places them all around the Stilinski's house, Noah is actually really confused to see a very bad batman sketch hanging in the hallway of his house (he thought it was a pouty cat), but Stiles forbade him from removing it and now there is at least one doodle in every room of the house, in Noah's bedroom too (he's attached to them just as much as Stiles now)

Rules on request??

Can you do one where Stiles finds out his girlfriend has a chronic illness like lupus or something and he adjust his life to be there every step for her. Even the time in the hospital he stays and sleeps in the bed with her holding her. He always seemed like he would be the golden retriever type 🩷 and she doesn’t or does know about the pack you choose

This is literally the sweetest request ever and so on brand for him! I decided to "give" her something else because I don't know anything about lupus. I am definitely not a medical expert of any kind and I do not claim to be, but I have a couple family members who have the chronic illness I chose, so I am slightly familiar with it. Everyone should always do their own research though! What I wrote mostly focuses on the events before finding out, but I can continue this and go into more detail on what happens afterwards if people would like me to. Also, I apologize, but the last third, give or take is kind of rushed. I hope you like it though! Thank you for the request!

Also, I will take any request with a grain of salt and tweak things if I need or want to. But I'm open to anything!

Battle Together

Word count: 1,658

His heart was racing and falling at the same time. There was no way this was actually happening, right? Not to her.  

His hands shook as he gripped his phone to his ear. Focusing on Scott’s voice was getting increasingly more difficult as he tried not to spiral. Why didn’t her dad tell him? Why wasn’t he with her right then, holding her hand and sweeping away her worries. Shit, he was so worried, and Scott clearly didn’t know all of what was actually going on.  

“Scott, wait, what are you saying?”  

“She’s here. In the hospital. All my mom told me was that she passed out and now they’re doing brain scans.” His friend was plainly shaken up too. 

Brain scans? Stiles felt sick. Everything he witnessed his mother go through when he was a little boy crashed into him all over again. What if this was the same thing? What if she had what his mom had? What if- 

“I’m on my way.” 

Stiles broke nearly every traffic law in existence as he raced to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, to his beloved girlfriend. He needed to get there as fast as possible; he needed to know what was going on. He absolutely despised being out of the loop. 

Frantically sprinting into the building and nearly running into not one, but two nurses who were going home for the night, he arrived at the front desk. But where the hell was Melissa? 

His feet almost left the floor when the sweet voice broke through his rapid breathing, saying, “Oh good, you’re here. Come with me.” 

Stiles turned to look at the curly-haired, soft-eyed woman. He couldn’t help that his voice trembled as soon as he opened his mouth. “What’s going on? Is she ok? Did something happen to her? Have they found anything yet? Why did-” 

“Stiles.” Melissa placed her aged hands on his shoulders in an attempt to ground him. “Breathe. Everything’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fine.” 

“Do you really know that...?” he asked hesitantly. 

She paused for a moment, understandably. There was no way to know anything for sure. Not yet, at least. 

“Let’s just go see her for now, ok?” 

He nodded and let her guide him to his girlfriend’s room. As they walked, Ms. McCall told him everything she knew. She explained that the poor girl had passed out in the kitchen while helping her dad prepare dinner, banging her head on the corner of the granite countertop and burning her forearm with spilled gravy in the process. Her father practically carried her to the car as soon as she hazily woke up and brought her in to the hospital. Her second-degree burn was cleaned and treated before the doctor decided to check for a concussion. Hearing the true explanation for the CT scan relatively eased Stiles’ nerves, but there was still so much to decipher. He needed to see her, preferably immediately. 

They reached the door of the room she was checked into when they moved her from the ER. However, Melissa did not reach for the handle, causing Stiles to give her a look of curiosity. 

“Stiles,” she started, exhaling a deep breath, “I want you to be prepared for whatever this is.” 

His curiosity deepened and twisted as the spires of concern within him sharpened and stood taller. “Wha- what does that mean?” 

“It means that, sometimes, something as small as passing out isn’t always as small as it seems...”  

The woman’s eyes were filled with a specific type of pain, one that Stiles was familiar with, but hadn’t seen in her for years. Since he was so young when his mother was sick, he never truly realized how much agony Melissa experienced as she watched a dear friend (and that friend’s family) of hers suffer. It brought her a horrible aching sensation to see the damage a singular disease could inflict on three good, genuine people, and not be able to do something significant to help. That was her job – to help. But there was really nothing she or anyone was capable of to improve the situation.  

Stiles swallowed in a faulty attempt to soothe his suddenly dry throat. He simply nodded, and in return, the sweet nurse gave him an empathetic smile. Of course, she didn’t want to scare him with what she said, but she had given bad news too many times that week. 

“Are you ready?” 

He sighed, trying to take her advice and finding it incredibly arduous. “Yeah, I think so.” 

As they quietly entered, Stiles’ eyes softened upon seeing the girl who stole his heart sitting up on the hospital bed. She looked incredibly tired, but watching her mouth curve upwards when her gaze met his made him feel like the luckiest man alive. Not because of the situation, obviously, but because that cute little smile was for him.  

“Hey, stranger.” Her raspy voice was surprisingly gleeful, all things considered. Perhaps Stiles just had that effect on her. 

“Hey,” he chuckled. “You feeling ok?” 

She simply shrugged and glanced at her father who was standing next to the bed.  

Begrudgingly, the man cleared his throat and excused himself from the room.  He supposed that giving the lovebirds no more than a couple minutes wouldn’t result in an utter catastrophe, even when Stiles is one of the pair in question, who hastily sat down on the edge of the bed as soon as the door clicked closed.  

“Are you sure you’re ok? Do you need me to get you anything? What can I do?” He took her hands into his. 

Her smile grew as she saw the love and devotion he had for her, not to mention the worry. She didn’t want him to stress himself out, but she had to admit that those wide eyes were adorable.  

“I’m fine, I swear. Just... stay with me for a while?” she said, her voice turning bashful. 

“Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Got that?” His hands squeezed hers as he leaned forward. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her face approaching his, “I got that.” 

As if he had a sixth sense for his daughter’s desires, the man swiftly entered the room again, causing both of the teens’ head to lurch backwards. Stiles tried to be sly as he slowly and awkwardly pulled his hands away and stood from the bed, backing away cautiously. A doctor stood in the doorway, along with Melissa. 

“Dr. Vandenberg wants to run a few more tests while we wait for the CT scan results, just in case it’s not a concussion.” Her father began pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I have some things I need to do for work, but I’ll be back in the morning, alright? Is that ok with you?’  

The information that was sprung on her felt like a spear piercing her spine and sending a poison of anxiety rushing through her bloodstream. All she could do was nod. There was no other option, anyway.  

He nodded back at her before his eyes locked onto Stiles. “You’re staying with her.” 

It was more of a command than anything, but the boy would never object to that regardless of whose mouth those words left.  

“Yes, sir.”  

Stiles was by her side for as many tests as he was permitted. He could tell that this was more frightening for her than she was divulging; it was harrowing. Therefore, he desperately desired to bring her some semblance of comfort. And he succeeded, to a degree. 

Afterwards, their time together was briefly ceased while he picked up the closest thing to a couple of “real” burgers Beacon Hills could provide. They contentedly ate their late dinner together, squished against one another once she made room for him next to her. He kissed away the condiment that was smeared on the corner of her mouth, making her giggle.  

Additionally, he held her close and kept his eyes glued to her form, making sure she was snuggly falling asleep without interruption. Without realizing it, he, too, was swept away into a slumber. Their trepidations momentarily fizzled and were replaced by fantasy-filled dreams, and morning rolled in fast. 

When her father returned, the doctor explained the various test results they received. Stiles’ girlfriend was officially diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), a chronic illness which frequently inflicts dizziness and fainting due to a lower blood volume returning to the heart. It can be managed with an increased intake of salt and water, but will be part of her for the rest of her life.  

Stiles felt a surge of anger at the news – there was nothing he could do to make this nuisance of a disease go away and his girlfriend did nothing to deserve it. However, he swore to himself that he would stay by her side, hold her hand, and keep her safe whenever her body got the best of her.  

He kept his promise throughout the rest of school, their engagement after he proposed, and their marriage. He did whatever he could to help, whether necessary or not. He always went the extra mile for her, even though it wasn’t an illness that would debilitate her from living her life. However, it was definitely inconvenient and dangerous at times. 

There was an instance in which she passed out while driving on the freeway, leaving her car to drift into the guard rails. Thankfully, there was very little traffic, so no one else got hurt. However, she was back in the hospital with a few minor injuries and her husband (for every minute of the stay).  

This battle was never fought alone, and Stiles had a unique talent for making her feel cared for without any semblance of being coddled. He knew how admirably strong she was and exactly when she needed him to step in and hold her. POTS would not break her, nor their bond.  

My apologies, I know I made this forever ago. But I was vey conflicted with the results because they are so, so close (23 to 24) and I don't have as much of a backstory for the Guardian Angel concept as the Wampus Cat one. I know, why did I bother making a poll if I have an idea for one and not the other? Well, I wanted to see what people would be more interested in. Since both seem to be appealing to people and I couldn't brainstorm literally anything for the Guardian Angel concept, I made a tough choice.

At some point, I will write the backstory of the Wampus Cat girlfriend/reader (I try to make my work easy for people to insert themselves into, I like doing that too), but it won't have a specific storyline. It will just be an AU that I can make little imagines based on. I think that will work much better for me and my personal schedule and mental status.

As for the Guardian Angel concept, I would still love to make an AU based on that too, but it will not be prioritized yet. Also, if anyone has ideas for her backstory (where she came from, if she was born as a guardian angel, if she's from a different dimension, etc.) please, please let me know because my writer's block is driving me insane and I don't want to let go of this idea.

Again, I have no idea when I will get the Wampus Cat backstory written and out there, perhaps after the holidays. I'm sorry if this is disappointing news for anyone - I want to be an official writer on this platform, but I keep falling into pits; I'm disappointed in myself too. Requests are still open, regardless of when I get to them. I will gladly accept any and all ideas. Thank you!

TEAM. I NEED YOUR HELP.

I'm contemplating writing a Stiles x supernatural reader series (childhood best friends to lovers trope), but I'm torn between two ideas. To be frank, I can't promise when or if this will actually happen, but in case it goes at some point, I want to know ahead of time so I can start planning in the back of my mind.

• Option 1: Wampus Cat.

-I've done research on this legend, but if I write about it, I will twist it a bit. Or a lot. In my version of it, there's a curse that gets passed down to every first born son's first born daughter, giving her cat-like and hypnotic abilities, some of which are similar to or opposite of werewolves. Obviously, I will go into more detail in the series, but that is a quick glimpse.

• Option 2: Guardian Angel.

-For this idea, Stiles finds out that his girl best friend is actually his guardian angel, wings and all (including some extra pizzazz), when she rescues him. There will be some "angel rules" that are broken and some other religious themes, but I, personally, am not religious and do not intend to offend or invalidate anyone's religion or religious beliefs.

Thank you for your help! If this does end up happening and you'd like to be notified, I can make a tag list, just let me know. 💜

A little blurb about the Stiles and Stuart twins trope because I can't stop thinking about their girlfriend studying with them...

Study Buddies

Word count: 660

She was perched between them on the couch with a textbook and notebook in her lap, and a pencil being anxiously twirled by her fingers in her hand. When she asked the t wo most intelligent people she knew to help her with her homework, this was not what she was expecting to happen. However, 'asked' is an understatement - she basically had to beg. Their drifting gazes and hungry eyes were clear evidence of how few of her words were actually being registered. Though, eventually, they snapped out of it and agreed to help her, only after she promised to let them have their fun once they finished.

So, there they were, Stiles, Stuart, and their girlfriend, as the boys', um, agitation grew. They were horny high schoolers, what did she expect? Well, focus, for one. And maybe just a little bit of tranquility.

"What the hell are you doing?" Stuart started.

"What do you mean?" Stiles said, looking up from their girlfriend's paper.

"I mean what the hell are you doing? That's wrong." Stuart pointed at the problem in her notebook that his twin was solving.

"What? No, it's not."

"Yes, it is, Stiles. Are you blind?"

"Nope. You're the one with glasses. Remember, dumbass?"

"I'm not the dumbass here since you're doing this wrong, dumbass."

The poor girl sighed and closed her eyes. Unfortunately, this wasn't an unusual occurrence, but that didn't make it any more pleasant to endure.

"Oh my god, Stuart, you're such a know-it-all. Well, guess what, ass wipe? You don't know it all."

"And you do?" Stuart retorted mockingly.

"More than you, at least."

"Then why are you doing this wrong?"

Stiles voice jumped in volume, "I'm not fucking doing it wrong! Holy shit!"

And Stuart's did the same in return. "Fine! Don't get all pissy at me when she fails her test next week then!"

Hearing Stuart depart from his usual low pitch was a little startling for the girl right next to him. She couldn't take it anymore. "Oh my gosh, will you guys stop?" she exclaimed, looking between the two of them with incredulity.

Their eyes flicked to hers, then returned to each other's for more glaring.

"I asked you guys for help, not a catfight," she continued.

The twins could see the frustration and stress on her face as she looked down at the stupid textbook in defeat, making their hearts quickly melt and guilt rise in their stomachs.

As if it was twin telepathy, they both reached their hand out and placed them on top of her thighs, one for each of them. Touch was one of the boys' favorite and most effective ways to console their girl - it was her weakness.

"Hey. I'm sorry," Stiles spoke softly.

"Yeah. I'm sorry too,"added Stuart.

She looked at both of them again, and seeing the sincerity in their maple eyes, she sighed and relaxed her shoulders. "It's fine... I'm just stressed out about this stupid assignment because I know that all of this will be on the test, and I have no idea what I'm doing, and you two are only making everything even more-"

"Ok, ok, it's ok," Stiles said, interrupting her anxious rambling.

"We're gonna help you now. Like, seriously. Don't worry." Stuart accepted the agreeing nod Stiles gave him.

She smiled and gave each of them a loving kiss, which they gladly returned. Damn, were they whipped.

By the end of the night, the twins' girlfriend felt more comfortable with the heavy load of information, and Stiles and Stuart got to release their loads, as she promised. Everyone was finally peaceful.

On the way back from the bathroom after cleaning up, Stiles glanced at the notebook one more time. He suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my god, I was wrong!"

"I told you." Stuart smirked, holding the tired girl close to him.

"Will you shut up-"

She dropped her head to Stuart's shoulder, groaning, "Guys. For fuck's sake, stop."

TEAM. I NEED YOUR HELP.

I'm contemplating writing a Stiles x supernatural reader series (childhood best friends to lovers trope), but I'm torn between two ideas. To be frank, I can't promise when or if this will actually happen, but in case it goes at some point, I want to know ahead of time so I can start planning in the back of my mind.

• Option 1: Wampus Cat.

-I've done research on this legend, but if I write about it, I will twist it a bit. Or a lot. In my version of it, there's a curse that gets passed down to every first born son's first born daughter, giving her cat-like and hypnotic abilities, some of which are similar to or opposite of werewolves. Obviously, I will go into more detail in the series, but that is a quick glimpse.

• Option 2: Guardian Angel.

-For this idea, Stiles finds out that his girl best friend is actually his guardian angel, wings and all (including some extra pizzazz), when she rescues him. There will be some "angel rules" that are broken and some other religious themes, but I, personally, am not religious and do not intend to offend or invalidate anyone's religion or religious beliefs.

Thank you for your help! If this does end up happening and you'd like to be notified, I can make a tag list, just let me know. 💜

Maybe like a cuddle fluff where he’s laying on top of you and playing with your curls?

Wow, it's been a long time since I got this. I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait. I have no excuse other than falling into the rabbit hole of Sebastian Stan... So, yeah, I had no inspiration for anything else. Again, I'm so sorry. I hope this turned out ok...

P.S. This can apply to natural curls or heat curls, whichever works for whoever is reading :)

P.P.S. I just realized that I misread the request. Shit.

The Recoil

Word count: 573

He was mesmerized, to say the least. He always had been. He'd stare at the back of her head as she walked in front of him, watching her luscious curls bounce with every step. He'd constantly be dying to touch them, and he'd try until his fingers were clutched to himself closely, rubbing the ache away after having them get whacked a few too many times. Apparently, some people don't like having their hair meddled with.

Thankfully, that's not the case for his girlfriend anymore. Now that they're happily dating, he gets to touch whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and he's made that very clear. She no longer minds Stiles' insistence because she is officially sure that it's out of affection, not annoyance.

The two snuggle up during any free time they can spare, and for as long as they can get away with, in countless positions and arrangements. They take turns spoiling the other with caresses, paying extra close attention to the other's hair and scalp (Stiles' favorites). There's a certain smirk that appears on his face when it's his turn to get his hands on the precious silk of hers.

Stiles lays on his back with his girlfriend's head placed gently on his chest, and their legs tangled. He brushes all the hair back and over her shoulders, away from her face. His eyes are focused but keep a delicate gaze. One by one, he lightly pulls on each spiral with his calloused fingertips until it extends to its full length, then lets go, watching it constrict again. His smile grows slowly in adoration, not noticing the confusion that grows on her face.

"Stiles...?" she asks softly.

"Hm?" He barely glances up to her face before he continues his attention on her hair, only halfway through her mane.

"What are you doing?"

"Just, you know. Enjoying the recoil."

She tilts her head back to look up at him. "The what?"

"Hey! You moved," he says, scowling.

"Yeah, thanks for noticing," she retorts. "What are you doing?"

His defensive words get a bit jumbled up and a heat spreads across his cheeks. "I'm just, you know. Right? The recoil. The hair, your hair, and the curliness, and the... you know? The recoil."

She can't hide the big, loving smile on her face as she keeps looking up at his.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" he says, staring right back at her.

"You're very cute, Stiles."

"No." He practically glares at her. "No, I'm not. Absolutely not. Just, just put your head back the way it was and stop worrying about it, ok? Relax."

Stiles' girlfriend chuckles softly and does as he says, resting her eyes again and enjoying the gentle pull of his fingers. There's no point in teasing more than he can take.

Meanwhile, he can't contain the red heat which is traveling down his neck. Stiles doesn't understand and never will understand how she can make him react like this. Usually, he's easily able to keep a cold, sarcastic front, but not with her. Not with that smile. Not with those eyes. Not with her dreamy curls. And certainly not with her laying against him.

In the end, he's still smiling fondly, noticing her thumb that slipped underneath his shirt to brush across his waist. It's the little things that get to him most and drive him absolutely crazy for the love of his life.

Hi,

First of all, I love your work! 😍

Aaaand can I ask for some (over)protective/ jealous Stiles, preferably at a party...maybe he sees someone flirting with y/n...or at school maybe and he gets touchy 🥺❤️

Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Hey! I apologize for taking so long to answer, but life has been absolutely wild lately. But, thank you very much for the request and the love! I twisted it a little bit, making his paranoia the cause of his jealousy instead of someone else... I hope that's ok and I hope you like it! :)

Fiasco

Word count: 1,052

Saying that Stiles wasn't thrilled to be at some random freshman lacrosse kid's party on a Friday night instead of being snuggled up on the couch with his girlfriend and ignoring a lame movie to make out was an understatement. He didn't even know what the kid's name was and he didn't care. The pipsqueak barely made the team anyway, it was doubtful that he was any better than Stiles (which was kind of an ego boost). But alas, there he was, walking into an unfamiliar house behind his group of friends, tightly clutching his girlfriend's hand in hopes of relieving his grumpy mood.

Unfortunately for him, this method failed as his anchor was swept away to the kitchen with Malia and Kira. He sighed defeatedly as he plopped himself down on the couch next to some imbecile who was wearing a scarf, and no, surprisingly, it wasn't Isaac.

All he wanted to do was go home and lock himself in a room with the love of his life. She always made everything feel better because she always knew what to do to make that happen. It's like she had his brain in the palm of her hand, all to herself to read and understand completely and thoroughly - she knew him better than anyone, including himself. So yes, he wished that she could magically heal his grouchiness and clear his mind of all the shit that was going on in his life, preferably immediately.

However, when his scowling gaze met her figure in the living room again and he saw the look of enjoyment on her face, disbelief struck him. He wondered how in hell she could be having fun right now, with these losers, wannabes, and tryhards, thus dragging his mood to deeper depths of negativity.

He watched every movement she made: step, shift, glance, smile, laugh, sway, sip, turn, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... But then his focus shifted to the people around his girlfriend. He narrowed his eyes as he observed drifting eyes, brushing hands, and hungry smirks.

His emotions swirled and bubbled inside him until they became a jealous and protective boil - one he could not contain.

Stiles stood up suddenly, charging towards his other half with a look of rage. He harshly grabbed the forearm of one of his adversaries and glowered at the boy as he scolded, "If you put your disgusting, perverted hand on her, I swear to God, I will chop your fucking hand off and shove it up your fucking-"

"Stiles!"

Like a bright ray of sunshine breaking through a wall of charcoal storm clouds, her voice broke through his haze of fury, retrieving his sanity. He looked at her and her disbelief, then blinked a few times and glanced around. That's when he realized he realized whose arm he was gripping: it was Ethan's, who looked like he was about to laugh in Stiles' face. He released Ethan and then saw Scott, Kira, Malia, Danny, Boyd, and Isaac, all staring right back at him.

Stiles' cheeks quickly darkened to a crimson and his whole body heated up, feeling incredibly stupid for losing his mind like that. He silently cursed himself, trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

His girlfriend, being the amazing woman she was, acted quickly when she saw Stiles' return to reality and the shame on his face. She took his hand and hastily led him outside, weaving through all the teenagers to reach the front door.

"What the hell is going on with you?" she asked worriedly, facing him on the driveway.

He stuttered, unable to ignore the lingering feeling of jealousy roaming through him, "I, well, I... I don't know, I just..." He let out a breath and looked down in an attempt to form a coherent sentence, looking up at her again after a short moment. "I don't want to be here. I want to be in my house with you, alone and away from everyone and everything."

"So, you flipped out instead of asking me to go home with you...?" she spoke, confused.

Stiles bit his lip, hesitating, before he continued, "No, I flipped out because I was jealous."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows with amusement. "You were jealous of Ethan? The guy who is dating Danny, another guy? The Ethan who is very gay and very uninterested in girls?"

"No!" he said, glaring at her, "I was jealous of how much fun you were having and how happy you looked..."

His girlfriend's smile softened and turned sympathetic.

"Well, and," he continued, "all the touching, and the looks, and the creepy smirks, and the rubbing, and the staring. I didn't like that either."

"What are you talking about?" She was suddenly filled with confusion again. "There was no touching, or rubbing, or creepiness, or staring."

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed as he replayed the earlier events in his head. He wasn't hallucinating, he knew what he saw. Or did he...?

"Stiles, seriously, what is going on with you? These are our friends. There's nothing to be jealous of," she said, getting his attention again.

"But I thought... Oh my God, I'm a mess." He ran his hands over his face. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but every little thing just pissed me off more and more, and then my grumpy mood turned into a wild rage, and then a whole fiasco. I'm a fiasco."

She softly smiled at him and cupped his face with her hands. "You are not a fiasco. But if you were in a bad mood, why didn't you just say so? We could've just stayed home and watched some lame movie instead."

Stiles' heart just about melted. He looked at her with all the love he had for her before pulling her closer by her hips and pressing his lips to hers.

"I'm sorry for imagining things and getting jealous. I'll definitely let you know about my bad mood before we go to another party," he said quietly, then gave her another peck.

"Thank you," her smile grew as she looked up at him, "but just so you know, I still love your imagination, even if it makes you do some questionable things."

He chuckled awkwardly as he spoke, "Yeah, I should probably go apologize to Ethan too..."

"Yep!"