#boyfriend!stiles

[harrywavycurly]

Because I’ve seen him on your page lately how would Stiles text you when he can’t find you at a house party?😍🩷

Hiii babes!! This made me laugh writing it so I hope you enjoy it! I haven’t written anything like this for Stiles before so be gentle 😂💖

[shrimpfriednuts]

He’s such a judgmental bitch I love him

And then here’s judgy number two. I love these little freaks.

[inter-st]

Can we talk about how cute this is?

I can't help but imagine Derek wearing it because Stiles gives it to him.

[milkcryptid]

messy

[awakenedevildays]

Stiles is the type of boyfriend who's love language is quality time and that LOVES to come with you to go shopping!

you can stay for hours, until closing time even and HE DOESN'T MIND: he follows you around the shops and holds all the clothes you put in his hands to try on later, he recommends the ones he thinks look best on you and goes to get you another size when you ask him to from behind the dressing room door, comes in to help you with zippers and buttons when you ask (it's the part he likes the most tbh) and lets you drag him into the hundredth shop without yawning or huffing while one hand grips yours and the other carries all the bags.

[feelsforsterek]

[eitlean]

Every time someone says stiles was straight I’m gonna bring up that scene in the locker room when he was complaining that he needed to get laid or else he’d be sacrificed cuz he’s a virgin and when Danny offered to do it stiles said “seriously dude? That is so sweet thank you” and was like totally down for it until Danny said he was kidding

Is the straight guy in the room with us

[fadingstudentbananacookie]

Why is this—

Giving the same energy as this?

[nino-rox]

Stiles x Male Reader | Fluff

Requested by Anonymous User - Not Proof Read

Teen Wolf AU - First time cuddling

Cookies & Cuddles

It had only been a week and a half since you and Stiles had started dating, but it felt both brand new and incredibly familiar, like you’d been circling each other for much longer. The thrill of finally being together was still fresh, but there was also that comfortable ease that came from years of friendship. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you pulled a tray of cookies from the oven, the smell of chocolate chip filling the kitchen.

You’d baked them as a surprise for Stiles, knowing how much he loved them. His sweet tooth was no secret, especially when he’d confessed it during one of those late-night conversations when it was just the two of you, sitting on the steps of your house. Stiles had been rambling about some bizarre case with Scott, and then out of nowhere, he'd gone off on a tangent about cookies. You’d laughed at the time, but tonight, you thought it’d be a nice gesture.

He arrived just as you were setting them down to cool, his Jeep rumbling to a stop outside. You could hear the faint sound of him locking it before his footsteps made their way to your front door. You opened it before he could knock, a habit you’d developed. Stiles stood there, his usual awkward smile on his face, hair even messier than normal—probably from some other crazy supernatural situation he hadn’t even told you about yet.

"Hey," he said, eyes lighting up the moment they caught sight of you. His shoulders visibly relaxed, and you could tell that being with you, even after a chaotic day, was becoming his safe haven.

"Hey yourself," you smiled back, stepping aside so he could come in. As soon as he entered, his eyes immediately darted to the kitchen, catching the scent of freshly baked cookies.

"Are those...?" His expression was priceless—wide-eyed, like he’d just stumbled upon a treasure.

You chuckled, "Yep. Thought you’d like a little treat after today."

"Okay, you’re officially the best boyfriend ever," Stiles declared, making a beeline for the kitchen like he hadn’t eaten in days. "No, seriously. You didn’t have to—wait, yes you did, because these smell *amazing*."

You followed him, laughing at his enthusiasm as he leaned over the tray, inhaling deeply. “I figured you needed something nice after whatever supernatural craziness happened today.”

He turned to you, still grinning. “Do you know me or what? But yeah, it was… intense. Scott almost got his head ripped off, Malia turned into full-on were-coyote mode, and Lydia’s banshee scream? Nearly deafened me again. But all in a day’s work, right?” He smirked, but you could see the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“You’re always saving the world,” you teased lightly, stepping closer to him. “But now you can relax for a bit.”

Stiles’ grin softened as he met your gaze. “I like that idea.” He reached out, fingers brushing yours before taking your hand in his. “You’re like my calm in the storm, you know that?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a second, the world outside really did feel distant. It was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet comfort of your kitchen, the faint smell of rain still lingering outside.

“C’mon,” you said, tugging him toward the couch. “Cookies can wait until they cool.”

Stiles followed, still holding your hand, and as you sat down, the weight of the day seemed to fall away from him. You both settled in, his arm resting over your shoulders, pulling you closer. His body was warm against yours, the faint scent of his cologne—something woodsy and familiar—mingling with the ever-present hint of mint from his gum. It was a comfort, something uniquely Stiles.

You were quiet for a moment, and then Stiles broke it, his voice softer now. “You know, it’s weird. We’ve been dating for what, like a week and a half? But I feel like...”

“Like it’s been longer?” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He squeezed your hand. “I guess that’s the benefit of knowing each other so well, huh?”

“Yeah, makes things a lot easier,” you said, smiling. “But it’s still new, and I kinda like that. Figuring all this out.”

He leaned his head against your shoulder, and for a moment, everything was perfect. His heart beat steady, his breathing calm—until, in true Stiles fashion, he couldn’t resist. “So, uh… how does this work?” he asked, gesturing between the two of you, his expression mock-serious. “Is this where we do the whole ‘first cuddle as a couple’ thing? I just don’t want to mess up the *routine* or anything. There’s like, a protocol, right?”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Pretty sure you’re doing fine so far.”

“Good to know,” he said, voice dipping into that soft, vulnerable tone he only used when it was just the two of you. He paused for a second, then turned his head slightly, his lips brushing your cheek. It was a tentative, sweet gesture, but it made your pulse race all the same. He pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, but you smiled, giving him the go-ahead without words.

Stiles leaned in again, this time pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. The kiss was slow, gentle—like he was savoring the moment, taking his time to explore the feeling of being this close to you. His lips were soft, and you could still taste the faint mint on his breath.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, a little breathless. Stiles’ face was flushed, but the happiness in his eyes was undeniable.

“I think I like this ‘routine,’” he said, grinning.

“Yeah?” you teased, still close enough to feel his breath against your skin.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling you closer again, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline. “We should definitely make this a regular thing.”

You chuckled, settling back into the couch as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. The rain outside had picked up again, tapping softly against the windows, but inside, the world felt warm and safe. Stiles, ever the fidgeter, started tracing lazy patterns on your hand, his other arm snug around your waist.

“This is nice,” he murmured after a while, his voice starting to grow a little drowsy.

You nodded, feeling the same contentment wash over you. “Yeah, it is.”

For a few more moments, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet comfort of being together. Then, out of nowhere, Stiles perked up. “Wait, the cookies! Did I miss the cooling window?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, they’re still good. You want to grab some now?”

“Hell yes,” he said, jumping up with renewed energy. He dashed to the kitchen and returned, holding a plate of warm cookies in triumph. “I’ve survived another day in Beacon Hills, and I deserve this,” he declared, handing you one before taking a huge bite out of his own. His eyes closed in bliss. “Oh my God, these are perfect.”

You grinned, taking a bite yourself. “Only the best for the hero of Beacon Hills.”

Stiles beamed at you, chocolate smudging the corner of his mouth. “Okay, stop. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“You’re already blushing,” you teased, leaning in to kiss the chocolate from his lips. And just like that, you found yourselves kissing again, sweet and soft, the taste of cookies mixing with the warmth of the moment.

In that instant, the world outside faded away. No werewolves, no banshees, no looming threats. Just you and Stiles, in the calm of a stormy Beacon Hills night, knowing that whatever craziness came next, you had each other.

[noyzinerd]

Stiles: I've been really into cryptid currency lately.

Scott: You mean cryptocurrency?

Stiles: Um, no? *makes grabby hands*

Derek: *rolling his eyes while handing Stiles a 50*

[cantgetoversterek]

The flesh of the throat is warm and tender, yielding to his fangs so easily it awakes a deep growl of satisfaction. The blood runs freely through his mouth, to his chin, his neck… a dense river of death that tastes like sweet revenge.

When the body stops twitching, Derek opens his mouth and lets Gerard fall to the forest floor, right next to Kate’s already decomposing remains.

The Hale land seems to breathe deeply and calmly, only the wind as a witness.

After a moment, soft footfalls approaching.

Stiles walks towards him, barely glancing at the corpses, baseball bat in hand. The chunks of flesh stuck to the thick nails in the bat start to get loose and drop to the floor with each step.

Slowly, he reaches Derek and steps right in front of him. His eyes are gleaming as he devours the sight of Derek.

Stiles grins almost tenderly as he approaches Derek’s face and reverently licks the blood from his chin to his mouth, ending with a bite to his lips.

“Darling… you have blood on your mouth…”

[bubbly-parker]

Isaac Request

Requested? Yes

Isaac Lahey x witch afab Reader

I didn't know if you wanted pure fluff of smut too so this is pure fluff I think I will add a second Chapter with smut, tonight or tomorrow. If anyone has any ideas what to add please drop them in my inbox <3333

Prompts:

4. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me.”

9. "let me take care of you

The reader thinks Isaac doesn't like her, but he's just awful at showing his feelings.

Since the reader doesn't have healing abilities like the rest of them Isaac never wants them to come with them because it stresses him out too much, he feels the need to protect her and he can’t fight and keep an eye on her at the same time

The reader thinks Isaac sees her as a burden but he is in loooooooove

Challenge: take a shot everytime i wrote Isaac.

Spoiler:

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument. “What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You woke up on your living room couch, halfway slumped over the side, with a pounding head and blurry vision. You couldn't remember getting home; all you remembered was a pretty bad fight.

I should have just stayed out of there.

But of course, you could never stay out of other people's business. No one in Beacon Hill could. Supernatural was drawn to supernatural.

When you changed schools, you didn't expect your parents to drop you off, and ending up immediately running into a WHOLE PACK of werewolves. You kept your head down and walked right past them as if they didn't exist.

You are a witch, so you smell like an average human to them, but they can’t fool you being born a witch. Your third eye has always been open, and they can’t hide their true forms from you.

One day during lunch, you overheard some of their troubles—of course, you weren't eavesdropping...

you'd never..

From what you gathered, they needed a rare plant that happened to grow in your witch mother’s garden.

You've only been here for a few weeks but befriended Allison and Lydia quickly, so you understood the pack was keeping the town safe and are no danger, of course, they didn't know that you had already seen through them, but you felt the need to help them regardless.

You heard them talking about meeting up after school, so you dropped a tracking stone in Lydia's bag during class when she wasn't looking so you could find her later. In hindsight, you should have maybe just approached them instead of using Lydia to stalk them, but you aren't exactly the most extroverted, so they would have to deal, you thought.

Later that day, you went home and plucked the flower from your mom’s garden while she was still out. Back in your room, you placed the second tracking stone on your map, and it moved exactly to where Lydia was at that moment.

Back then, on that day, you should have learned to mind your business, but whatever

You got out of your car in the middle of the woods, a map and a mason jar with your flower in your hand, looking for Lydia when you heard screaming.

A fight was happening in the middle of the woods, and you ran right into it.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You turned around to see a rather angry Isaac right behind you, unsure whether he had turned since you pretty much always saw through their facade. You could feel the anger rolling off of him. Taking a step back as he took on forward, you pushed your hand out, shoving the jar under his nose while avoiding his eyes. You said nothing.

Isaac accused you of spying on them and trying to sabotage them, but thankfully Stiles stumbled towards you guys, perplexed by your appearance but thankful either way he took the flower and did god knows what with it.

Ever since that you involuntary became a part of the pack. You told them how you knew from the first time you set foot in the school, but Isaac didn't trust you and kept his distance. Now, a year later, close to graduation, you still end up coming to the rescue every single time together with Stiles. You're keeping the boat from sinking, really.

And that's why you found yourself in your current position. You came to the rescue again. Some sicko alpha was rampaging through the woods, and while you were laying a trail of mountain ash, he attacked you from behind, scratching open your side and throwing you through the night sky, lovely.

You didn't register any pain at first, but now that you're coming to be, your entire side is burning, and your head is pounding even stronger.

You don't know who got you home, but you could hear water running in your guest bath down the hall, so with a shaky breath, you pushed yourself up to make your way over to the bathroom, but your vision got blurry, and you had to lean on the armrest.

“What are you doing? Sit back down.” Isaac came rushing towards you and helped you sit back down. You didn't know who to expect, but it wasn't Isaac.

Over the last year, Isaac had warmed up to you a little—not that you could tell, but that's what the others kept saying.

To you, Isaac still seemed closed off, but you wrote it off as it being his personality.

He didn't want you to come today. He protested profusely at lunch, saying that there was nothing you could help with anyway and that you were just putting yourself in danger. You knew that you probably should have sat this one out, but Stiles was feeling under the weather, and you didn't like that Isaac made you feel like a child.”

“I can take care of myself. I'm not a child,” you told Isaac, who acted like you would just be a burden. You feared he might have been right.

Now that he was in your home, treating you like a child again made you angry. One day, he was nice to you—distant but still somewhat nice—giving you class notes when you were sick even though you were sure he never took notes. He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and then he acted like a first-class jerk again.

To be real, his cold-shoulder, mysterious attitude had you crushing a little at first, but when you realized that he only cold-shouldered you and Stiles, it just felt like he was excluding you.

While you could be more of a help to your friends if you would be focusing on spell crafting like your mom instead of potion making, it comes in handy in times like this where your healing salves would aid your healing process, not having the natural advanced healing of a werewolf.

You take a staggered breath in, grind your teeth together, and got moving.

“You’re shitting me right now; you shouldn't move in this condition.”

Ignoring Isaac, you moved towards your hallway, one hand on the wall stabilizing you.

“I mean it, Isaac, just leave. I brought this onto myself anyway."

But instead of Isaac leaving, you could hear him move towards you.

You went to turn around. “ Wh-

Before you could even start, Isaac picked you up.

Paralyzed from the shock of what was happening, you just gasped up at Isaac like a fish as he carried you to your bedroom. He placed you down on your bed, and without looking at you, he immediately turned away. Your eyes followed his figure as he moved towards the other side of your room, where you kept your potion cabinet.

“Which one is that healing stuff you gave Allison last time?” You just looked at Isaac, not quite understanding why he was still here.

“the purple container that says Clinique” (reduce, reuse, recycle old containers)

Isaac moved back over to the bed. You sat up and took the salve from him.

You waited for him to leave so you could lift your shirt and apply the salve but Isaac sat down next to you.

“I'll help you." Isaac moved closer and tried to lift the side of your shirt, but you flinched back—wrong idea. A stabbing pain ran up your side and temporarily made your vision go black.

One part of your brain enjoyed the idea of taking your whole shirt off in front of Isaac—maybe that small part that still had a crush on him—but the other side didn't even want to slightly lift it.

“I can do it, Isaac; seriously, I'm not getting naked in front of you,” you glared at Isaac the best you could. "You don't need to be here.”

In reality, you didn't look mean at all, the pain too clear in your expression, and your wound far too concerning in Isaac's eyes. “You’re not getting naked; I just need to rub this on, and in case you haven't noticed, you're not even wearing your own shirt, so I won't see anything I haven’t already.”

You looked down at your own body and noticed he's right; the shirt you left the house in is long gone; instead, your blood is soaking into the shirt Isaac wore earlier under his jacket.

While you were distracted, Isaac quickly applied the slave to one hand and went under your shirt. As he went to apply it, you still tried to wriggle out of his hold; you don't know why you did it. You could tell that Isaac, for whatever reason, just wanted to help you.

Nice Isaac was complicated. It made the irrational side of your brain fuzzy, and maybe one small butterfly woke up in your stomach. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me and let me help you, goddamit.”

Isaac’s grip tightened around your waist. You couldn't go anywhere. As he rubbed the salve around your wound, he decided not to lift your shirt and just moved his hand under it.

You titled your head to look at Isaac; his eyes moved from your middle to your face. “Is this okay?” he asked while looking into your eyes.

You nodded your head, not sure what to say. This side of Isaac was weird; technically, you should be happy. This caring side is what you dreamed about months ago when you started crushing on the mysterious wolf, but he made it so incredibly hard on you by always treating you like a little kid.

When Isaac was done, he got up off the bed, washed his hands, and put the salve back where it belonged.

You dropped back on your bed, facing the ceiling, energy fading. You couldn't even move up the bed, legs still dangling off.

Isaac came back to your side and kneeled. He started taking your boots off; you felt too exhausted to even lift your feet to help him.

You groaned, thinking about how Isaac would use this against you for all eternity to prove that you are nothing but a danger to yourself.

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

Okay, that wasn't what you expected.

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument.

“What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

You didn't really understand what Isaac was on about.

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You tried to make sense of his words when a conversation you had with Lydia came back to mind; you brushed it off, but Lydia had said something about Isaac always being way too close to you, not in a literal way, but if you were walking in a group, he was next to you walking on the side next to the road, and if you split up in groups, Isaac was always with you, and now today.

wait

“How did you find me? You were supposed to be at the other end of the woods?” You asked Isaac, who gave no reply. He was supposed to be with Allison as backup and setting up traps.

Isaac had put your shoes next to your wardrobe and came back to the side of your bed to help you move fully onto the bed.

“Isaac?”

“I was going to go in position once you were inside the Mountain Ash Circle... But then he came out of nowhere. I was too focused on you to notice him. I'm sorry.” Now you knew Isaac wasn't a man of many words, but you realized that Lydia might have been a little right; Isaac was always watching you.

A blush crept up on your cheeks, but you couldn't quite believe the conclusion you were drawing here.

“Oh,”

Isaac looked down at you lying on your back. "I’m bad at this talking thing, okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact now.

“it’s okay” You patted the space beside you on the bed and signaled Isaac to sit or lay down. You realized it must have been pretty late, or early? You looked at your alarm clock 2:43 am; well, not too bad.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Isaac laid down on his side next to you, somehow facing you but still avoiding looking at you, fascinating.

“Thank you, Isaac." Your eyes met, and the usually confident Isaac suddenly looked everything but that.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face with his hand. “Just let me take care of you from now on, okay?” he asked.

Okay, more than one butterfly woke up again. You nodded your head and tried to scoot closer to Isaac; instead, he wrapped his arms around you and did the work for you by pulling you in. “Will you stay?” you said as Isaac moved to sit up. “Of course, but you should change your shirt; it’s bloody.”

“You mean I should change youuur shirt?” you purred. You smiled at Isaac and pointed to your chair, where your PJs were lying. He reached over and gave you your shirt.

“Can you help me get this off?” You sat up; your side was healing. You could feel the wound closing up faster than humanly possible, but it still ached.

Isaac helped you lift your arms as little as possible as he lifted your shirt above your head.

Shivers ran down your spine, but you didn't feel uncomfortable. He helped you put your clean shirt back on and moved you to lie down with him, setting the blanket over you two.

You laid together in silence, your back pressed to Isaac’s chest; you could feel his breath on top of your head; you should sleep, but your emotions were running wild, and you didn't want this moment, these feelings, to end.

As if he could read your thoughts, Isaac said, “I’ll still be here in the morning. You can sleep.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you drifted off to sleep. Today's events were a little too much.

[lucky-punk-lemonade]

| "I've seen your frown, and it's like looking down the barrel of a gun, and it goes off."

After an argument, you and Stiles don’t usually keep separate. It happened when you both needed a moment to really cool down, but not usually. It was a mutual thing when one of you would reach out to communicate and talk it out. After your night routine, you climbed into bed and immediately felt empty as there wasn’t any noise from his routine. He never came into the room to turn the lights off, and you had to get back up and do it yourself. After an hour, you finally fell asleep. 

You were woken up by your bedroom door opening. With squinted eyes, you slowly sat up in the dark. The only thing you could make out were blurry outlines. As your eyes adjusted more, you saw his slouched figure standing against the doorframe. His expression was unreadable, but everything else about him looked defeated, almost pathetic, in his sweatpants and T-shirt. Mussed hair and tired eyes. When you laid back down and pulled the covers over your head, he almost appreciated that more. He didn’t expect open arms after a fight like that, but that small bit of allowance lifted a weight off of him. 

After hearing a few soft footsteps, he crawled into the bed behind you, keeping his distance for a moment. Over the thick duvet, he put a hand on your body, kissing over where your shoulder made a smooth curve on your upper body. He was grateful for this. Even though the blanket made it impossible to really feel you, he was grateful to be touching even an extension of you. Because at least you were there. He found himself kneading over the layer of blanket, just nearly reaching you. He pressed his cheek against the back of your shoulder again and hoped that, soon in your sleepy state, you’d push the covers down, forget about the fight, and pull yourself into him. Even if, in the morning, you’d push yourself away and tell him you need a little more time. He needed you to forget, however briefly, because he couldn’t fix this right now. He could, however, brush your hair away from your face. Sleep had erased conflict from your expression and every other emotion, and Stiles started making a plan to reconcile.

[artaxlivs]

What if Scott is so confused and lost over Allison and the break up because he thinks she's his anchor but his anchor is really his best friend? His anchor is Stiles, the guy who tossed lacrosse balls at his face to teach him control, the guy who dug through all the lore he could find to help Scott understand himself, the guy who consistently stood back to back with Scott against the world.

What if pulling away from Stiles because he's distracted by Allison is what makes Scott unable to find his footing in either world?

What if platonic love is really what keeps us all grounded and we've been taught it was romantic love which is why we're all a fucking mess?

[adoreliv]

dylan obrien, august 2014 teen vogue ۶ৎ

[feelsforsterek]

fall dates •°. *࿐