#finstock x reader

[voidangxls]

GRRRRRR I NEED A STILES FIC WHERE'S UR LIKE THE COACH'S KID OR SMTH AND HE FINDS OUT. IT'S NOT FUNNY I NEED STILES IN MY VEINS AAAA. Who said that guys...

ˋ°•*⁀➷ “You’re coach’s daughter!?” ♬⋆.˚

╰┈➤ requested!

pairings(s)- stiles stilinski x reader

Summary- You and Stiles have been talking recently but he finds out who your dad is.

category- fluff

warnings- american school system, coach, greenberg, slight shy!stiles, not proofread

word count: 2670

masterlist; teen wolf masterlist

a/n: I hope this fits what you wanted!!

---------------------------

You had switched to Beacon Hills High School during your sophomore year of high school. Your father is a coach and teacher for Beacon Hills so you went to a different school, you and your dad (mostly you) thinking it was for the best.

But you hated it, the reachers were annoying, the school was crazy strict and you just didn’t fit within the school so you asked your dad if you could transfer to Beacon Hills where be taught at. He was more than overjoyed to now have you attending his school, he signed the transfer papers fairly quickly.

You had only transferred at the beginning of the school year, showing up for the first day like any of the normal students.

Now it was the 3rd month of school and no one knew you were Coach Finstocks daughter except for the two of you, and the principal. Your parents split up when you were little, your dad getting full custody of you though you do see your mom here and there. When you were born you got your mothers last name, something to do with her culture or the way she was raised so that was another reason no one knew you were Bobby’s daughter, you guys didn’t have the same last name.

When you arrived at the school your attention was immediately taken by a certain boy. His name was Stiles Stilinski. As soon as you saw him you thought he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen, everything about him was literally perfect in your eyes. So what did you do? You talked to him…but not until like a month and a half of school had already passed

On the first day of school when you walked into class is when you noticed him, you also noticed him staring. So you walked towards the empty seat behind him and sat down. That day when you had sat in that seat, he and his friend turned around slightly and you just gave them a smile.

Almost 2 months had passed since the first say of school and that was when the two of you first spoke. The both of you remembered that day distinctly.

You walked to your usual seat in first person and sat down, right behind Stiles like usual. When the teacher began class you took a breath. You had finally grown the balls to talk to him, since he wasn’t going to be the one to do it. Leaning forward slightly in your seat, your hand reaches forward and gently taps his shoulder twice, your hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment, not enough for someone else to notice, but enough for just the both if you to notice.

The boy quickly turned around, he knew it had to have been you since you sat behind him but when he turned around and actually got view of you actually trying to talk to him he lost his breath. His mouth dropped open slightly, his jaw slightly moving as if he was trying to talk but the poor boy just couldn’t get the words out.

In response to his awkwardness you let a smile overcome your face, trying your best to not laugh at his expression. “do you have a pencil I could borrow?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb the teachers lesson. Now, after a while of wanting to talk to him all you did was ask if you could barrow a pencil (which you had in your bag anyways), but it was better than nothing!

Stiles’s mouth snaps shut and he swallows, nodding quickly he turns around and grabs a perfectly sharpened pencil out of his bag. He turns back around rapidly and holds the pencil up between the two of you like it was a prize. The smile on your face grows wider all while he just stares at you with wide eyes, as if he’s in a trance. You reach forward and grab the pencil from his hand, purposely making your hand graze against his. The boys expression hadn’t changed, still looking at you as if you were a princess or something.

Stiles could have sworn his heart skipped a beat and no actually probably stopped when he turned around to see you looking at him with a gentle expression.

He had wanted to talk to you since the very first day of school when he saw you. Before that day he had never seen you, so clearly you were new to Beacon Hills, or at least new to the high school. He just never had the guts to actually speak to you, he was never good with girls. Especially very pretty ones like you. When he first turned towards you he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you, you were up close and asking him a question and you looked like a princess. In that moment he would do anything you asked, when you asked for a pencil and finally snapped him out of his haze he was grateful. One of those reasons being because he thought he looked like an idiot staring at you like that, and second because he really liked your voice.

From that point forward the two of you spoke regularly. After a couple of days you guys ended up exchanging numbers and you talked 24/7. He still didn’t know that your dad was one of his teachers and his coach but you were going to tell him soon.

Last week Stiles was shockingly able to ask you on a date. You were shocked that he was able to stand in front of you and get the words out but you obviously said yes, happily. And when he got that answer he lit up like a kid at a candy store and did a celebratory movement. You had compromised a day in which you knew your dad wouldn’t be home, you didn’t want your dad to know just yet and you didn’t think Stiles would want to be heavily interrogated on your first date.

The date had went great, the two of you were just as amazing together as you were outside of romantic feelings. Although you guys just recently met, both of you could see a great relationship together and it was definitely something you both wanted to explore.

Just five days after your date with Stiles it was now a Wednesday and you were at school, the two of you were supposed to be having another date tonight. Right now it was your free period, usually you would go to the library to either read or catch up on work but the library was currently closed for the day seeing as the librarian had to leave early. It was too cold to go outside seeing as it was transitioning from fall into winter. So you decided you would go to your dads classroom seeing as his office is connected to the room and you knew he would let you chill in his office while he taught his class, what you didn’t know was that Stiles was in that current class.

You walk through the halls of the school, bag over one of your shoulders. Your phone in your hand with headphones connected to your phone and one of the buds in your ear.

When you make it to your dads classroom you bring your hand up and knock on the door. He opens the door and looks down at you with a confused expression “what are you doing here?” he asks, not rudely or in his usual tone of voice but in pure confusion and slight worry which shocks the other students, never having heard him using an abnormal tone of voice on a student.

Bobby steps aside and lets you walk in even further slightly. Upon seeing your frame Stiles perks up, a smile immediately casted onto his face and his curiosity spiked. “Free period and library’s closed. Can I chill in your office?” you ask your dad, slightly stepping further into the classroom, avoiding looking at any of the other students. “yeah go ahead” he looks down at you a nods. He moves back towards the front of his desk while you walk past.

As you were walking you felt eyes on you. You were about to turn around when your dad speaks up. “Greenberg! Stop looking at my daughter!” he says harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut slightly and turn towards your dad with raised eyebrows. Still feeling eyes on you, you turn your head slightly and see Stiles looking ahead at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. At further notice everyone in the classroom was looking between you and your dad in shock, well except for Greenberg, he had his head down after your dad’s comment.

“shes your daughter?” Stiles says loudly in shock, his finger pointing at you. His mouth was open in a jaw dropping way and his eyes were wide. You take a deep breath and walk into your dads office, ignoring the eyes of your fellow students and more importantly Stiles

It was now the end of the school day and you were getting longer stares from students, clearly word had gotten around. You truly didn’t care but now everyone would be questioning why neither of you said anything.

And let’s just say you were slightly avoiding Stiles, well not really…you only avoided him after that class. You were now at your locker, packing up your school bag so you could head home when a presence is suddenly next to you. “Coach is your dad!?” the voice exclaims, breaking slightly at the end. You let out a breath and grab your bag, then closing your locker.

Stiles’s face was revealed once you closed your locker. His face was filled with pure shock, he looked at you as if you had two heads. Your lips press together into a thin line and your grip on your backpack adjusts. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, I was going to I swear!” You try your best to reassure him.

His face confronts from shock and into confusion, looking at you with pulled eyebrows but his mouth still slightly open. “Wha- I just cant believe your Coaches daughter!” he exclaims loudly, everyone in the hall turns towards the two of you and in response to his loudness you raise a singular brow at him. He grimaces slightly “sorry” he whispers. “I just cant believe you, like you standing in front of me came from him, it makes no sense!” he exclaims, definitely more on the quieter side this time around.

You fight a smile on your face, Stiles always brought one to your face. When he sees you smiling a smile is immediately pushed onto his face as well. “Well I am” you respond quietly, looking up at him.

“And you know thats very scary but who cares?” Stiles shrugs, one of his hands coming up to grip onto his backpack strap. Your face lights up in response, you were scared he would want to see you anymore just because of who your dad is. You let out a small laugh at him saying your dad was scary but then you look up at him happily “so, our dates still on?” you ask, swaying your body lightly.

He pulls a face and looks at you as if you asked the dumbest question ever. “Are you serious? You’re the best girl ever of course I want to go on that date, you’re like amazing, your pretty, funny, kind, great clothes- Well uh um unless you dont want to go on the date which is totally-“ He rambles, moving his hands theatrically.

During his rambling you couldn’t help but smile. Sure the compliments weren’t out of this world creative or poetic but when you could tell they actually mean something from who they’re coming from means a lot. Before he could continue to ramble and stress about if you wanted to go on the date or not you bring your hand up and cover his mouth. “I want to go on the date, Stiles.” you assure him, nodding your head slightly with a smile

Stiles lets out a little nervous laugh and nods as you remove your hand from his face. He tucks one of his hands into his jean pocket and looks down at you bashfully “good, cause I was- am really excited about it” he tells you, bouncing on his feet lightly.

“me too” you respond, looking up at him with a matching smile.

It was now later in the day and you were ready for your date with Stiles. You were dressed in a cute turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans, Stiles said he was surprising you so you had no clue where the two of you were going.

Now, since the cat was out of the bag you didn’t see too much of a problem in the fact that your dad would indeed be home all night. So he would be here when Stiles picked you up and dropped you off, which was definitely nerve wracking knowing who your dad was and knowing how Stiles is, Oh! and the fact that your dad had no clue you were going on a date.

You were putting in your last earring when the doorbell rang, you quickly grab your jacket and throw it on, as well as grabbing your purse as you walk out of your bedroom. As you were walking down the steps you hear your fathers naturally loud voice ring out so you stop, not being seen by either of them. “What are you doing here Stilinski? and with flowers?”

“uh um your-“ before Stiles could even finish his sentence where he was going to tell Bobby the flowers were for you he jumps in.

“for me?” He asks dryly, knowing they weren’t for him yet at the same time not knowing they were for his daughter that was currently eavesdropping.

“Yeah! actually! As a thank you for being the best coach” Stiles stammers, pushing them forward and into your dad’s hands. From on top of the steps behind the wall you let out a giggle and finally decide to put Stiles out of him misery.

Your dad looked down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand then back up at an awkwardly smiling Stiles in pure confusion. Not a single thought in your dad’s brain or a feature in his face didn’t hold confusion.

You walk forward, now stepping in between the two boys. “Dad. Stiles and I are going on a date” you tell him confidently. To be sure to win your father over him you show him one of your award winning smiles that always had an effect on your dad.

“Stilinski? You’re going on a date with Stilinski? Actually no, my daughter’s going on a date?” Bobby exclaims, pointing his finger at each of you accordingly.

“yup” you say happily, popping the p

“oh god” Stiles whispers, silently praying for his safety

“since when do you go on dates?” Your dad asks uncomfortably yet in his usual stern voice. He didn’t like seeing his little girl grow up.

“since now, dad” you respond, quickly pulling him into a hug and pecking his cheek. “Make sure to put those in water!” you say hurriedly while grabbing Stiles’s hand and speed walking to his car

“Have her home by ten!” Your father exclaims, his hand holding the flowers raising and shaking sternly with his words.

“Yes Coach! Oh uh Sir!” Stiles exclaims back to him, clumsily almost tripping over his feet but your hold was there to balance him. He opens the door for you and lend you a hand to get inside before running around to the drivers side of his precious Rosco.

“At least it wasnt GreenBerg” Bobby mutters, running a hand over his face and through his hair as he closes the front door.

[witchajfics]

The Witching Hour: A Teen Wolf Rewrite

Hi! My name is AJ and I am an aspiring writer. This is my first ever work on this site, and one of my first ever written pieces, so please be kind! I always want to improve my writing and story so suggestions will be considered! :) I also don't know how to tag this properly, so if any are incorrect or if I should add more, let me know!! I will try to keep updates consistent, but I am a senior in high school, so please be patient! This work is just for fun and is just a silly little project I'm doing for my enjoyment, so if you don't like it, don't read it! I'm going to be dividing each episode into 2-3 parts, and I will be ATTEMPTING to go through the entire series and the movie. There will be multiple love interests that feature different tropes, etc. NOT BETA READ OR PERFECT BY ANY MEANS!!

I do not own Teen Wolf or any Teen Wolf properties, this is merely for fun, all characters from Teen Wolf belong to like Jeff Davis or the creators of the show thx bye

This work will be mostly canon-compliant and include many scenes from the show. However, some scenes will be cut, due to their lack of relevance to Anni. Direct quotes from the show will be used as this is a rewrite. Some stuff is also from the official transcript. Some time differences will change for the sake of the protagonist. For the sake of storytelling, Beacon Hills High is 8th-12th grade. Also, Lydia's involvement with the story and the characters (namely Stiles) will be altered to allow Anni to be involved. Don't worry she's still in! She will just be a minor/recurring character instead of a main one. My face claim for Anni is Samantha Logan (once she gets older), except she has green eyes. Now, without further ado, my Teen Wolf Rewrite!

Posted on AO3 Here

Wattpad

Season 1 Episode 1 (Part 1): Wolf Moon

Anni was going to scream. The short-tempered girl was currently trying to get her much needed beauty rest, but all she could hear was her brother’s stupid loud ass rock music. God, could these walls be any thinner? Anni thought, rubbing her eyes and shoving her face into her pillow. The song suddenly dissolved into a drum solo and Anni threw the pillow across her room in frustration, groaning loudly. Just as she was about to grace her darling brother with her fuming presence, the music stopped. Anni waits for a tick, standing next to her door frame, prepared for it to start again. Two minutes pass, and no sound is heard from Scott’s room. She lets out a relieved sigh and jumps headfirst back into her bed. Tucking herself under the blanket, she snuggles into her pillow, her eyes falling shut as she falls into unconsciousness…and then she hears the screams of two idiot teenage boys.

“God fucking dammit, Scott!” She screams, once again, tossing her poor pillow across the room. Stomping out of her room and down the stairs, she walks out onto her porch and sees her brother dearest and his partner in crime.

“Can you be a little mindful of others, for once, Scott? Maybe don’t blast your shitty ass rock music at 11 PM for ALL OTHER MEMBERS OF THIS HOUSEHOLD TO HEAR ?! Especially those whose room is right next to yours, and have extremely thin walls!” Anni growls in frustration, and then turns on Stiles who is still hanging upside down from the trellis, “And you…! This is not your house, Stiles. Why are you here?”

Scott opens his mouth to bite back at his little sister and defend his questionable music taste, but Stiles beats him to it.

“Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called-they’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even state police.”

Scott frowns, “For what?”

Stiles, looking way too excited for what he’s about to announce, reaches up to pull himself free of the trellis, landing on his feet in front of the McCall siblings.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Stiles states, barely containing his glee.

Anni’s eyes widened in surprise, her mouth falling open slightly. Nothing ever happens in Beacon Hills. The last “major” crime that happened was some gas station getting robbed of 37 bags of flamin’ hot Cheetos two years ago. Scott continued to look confused.

“Wait, seriously?” Anni said as Scott asked, “What, a dead body?”

Anni rolled her eyes at her older brother’s stupidity, as Stiles reached up and leaned on the railing to look at Scott at eye level with a sarcastic expression.

“No, a body of water, Scott. Yes, dumbass, a dead body!” Stiles exclaimed as Scott looked a bit unnerved about this news while Stiles climbs over the railing to get onto the porch.

“Thank God I’m adopted,” Anni mumbles, as Scott shoots her a glare, and Stiles snorts.

Scott turns back to Stiles, his grip tightening on the baseball bat in his hand.

“You mean, like, murdered?” Scott said as Anni leaned against the porch railing next to him.

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on,” Anni began, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, “If they found the body, then what are they looking for?”

Scott nods in agreement with his sister and looks back at Stiles who breaks into a grin.

“That’s the best part-they only found half.”

Anni pushes herself off the rail of the porch, standing up straight, her mind racing. No way she’ll be going to sleep now.

Scott still looks hesitant, but Stiles says, “We’re going,” in a tone that makes it clear that Scott doesn’t have a say in what happens next.

The two boys rush off the porch, heading in the direction of Stiles’ Jeep, about to climb into the car. Anni rushes after them, grabbing Scott’s arm.

“Wait! I’ll come too,” she says, trying to match the tone of finality Stiles had used with Scott before, to convince them to let her go.

“No,” both boys said immediately, without even a second thought or a glance at Anni.

Anni scoffs, grabbing onto the open window on the passenger side of the Jeep.

“Why not?! I wanna see the dead body too, ya know! You guys never let me come!” she huffs, examining how big the passenger window was and if she was fast enough to crawl into it without Scott throwing her out.

“It’s way too dangerous,” Stiles said, starting up the car, “And besides, you’re a little too young for this kind of action. You’re only 14.” Scott nods in agreement, attempting to pry Anni’s fingers off the open window.

“You guys are only two years older than me! And what kind of protection do you guys have that I don’t?! If there’s a murderer out there, you guys will get just as murdered as me!”

“Nuh-uh,” said Stiles, in a very mature way.

“Yuh-huh,” responded Anni, equally as mature.

The two went back and forth for a while, until Scott said, “Okay, that’s enough! Anni, you’re not coming! I’m not letting you go out into the woods in the middle of the night to hunt for a corpse. Pretty sure I would win Worst Big Brother of the Year if I did that.”

Anni huffed, clenching her hands into fists.

“Fine! If you won’t let me come then I’ll…I’ll tell Mom!”

Scott narrowed his eyes at Anni, looking her up and down.

“You wouldn’t.”

Anni attempts to hold his glare but loses the battle after a moment.

“Okay, fine, yeah, I won’t, but you guys suck!” Anni sighs, cursing herself for not being snitch.

Scott grins at Anni, patting her on the head, which she swats away.

“We’ll be back later tonight, or tomorrow morning. Go sleep!”

Anni shoots a withering glare at her brother and Stiles and says, “I hope you guys get lost in the woods and die.”

“Aw, America’s sweetheart, aren't you?” Stiles says sarcastically, pulling out of the driveway, as Scott laughs.

Anni flips him off, and stomps inside, closing the door behind her. She watches as the Jeep peels out of the driveway and drives down the street, making a left at the end of the road.

She sighs, bringing her hand up to run through her curls, and begins to walk up the stairs to her room. She enters, shuts the door, and then collapses on her bed. She stares at the ceiling for a moment, before rolling onto her side and facing the wall. Anni shuts her eyes, trying to fall asleep. Just as she is about to lose consciousness, her eyes fly open and begin to glow bright emerald green. Flashing images fill her vision. Stiles’ Jeep, Sheriff Stiliniski, Scott lying on the forest ground, flashlights, and what looks like a wolf, but…almost humanoid? Suddenly, the visions stop. Her eyes return to their normal shade of sage green, and Anni immediately reaches up to rub her eyes. What the actual fuck. Anni glances around her room for a few moments and then looks at the clock on her nightstand. Midnight it reads. I must be more sleep-deprived than I thought, Anni thinks. She lays back down, shutting her eyes. Alright, maybe 3rd time’s the charm. She takes a deep breath and lets the land of dreams take her for the night.

..

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep-!

Anni groans and swings her arm in the general direction of her bedside table until she hits the snooze button on her alarm clock. Without opening her eyes, she stretches and groans even louder. She sucks in a deep breath and sits up on her bed. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes sliding out of bed, and stumbles her way to the bathroom. Turning on the light, she faces the mirror, observing her morning reflection. Her curls were flying every which way, her under-eyes darkened with eye-bags, and sniff may need a shower. Anni glances at the clock on the wall, checking how much time she has before she needs to dash out the door. It reads 6:40. 20 minutes, Anni thought, okay, I can take a quick shower.

Anni quickly undresses, grabs her loofah, and all her hair products, and hops in the shower. She finishes quickly, drying off, and plugs in her diffuser. She teases her curls, letting them stay down, rather than do any intricate hairstyle. She squeezes the last of her toothpaste on her toothbrush, making a mental note to tell Scott to get more, and begins to brush. She peeks at the clock, the time being 6:55. She spits, puts her toothbrush back, and runs downstairs.

Anni rushes to the kitchen, looking for something to eat quickly. She opens the fridge and finds nothing, going to close the door until she sees something metal on the fridge door. She picks it up and sees that it’s Scott’s house keys. Rolling her eyes, she puts them in her pocket, opens the cabinet to grab a pop tart and scarf it down.

“SCOOOOOOTTT!” Anni yells, her mouth full of pop-tart, “LET’S GO WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!”

As Anni tugs her Docs on, Scott comes rushing down the stairs, tugging his shirt over his head. He grabs his bag and looks around wildly for his keys.

Anni turns, “Looking for your keys? I got them, let’s go,” and turns to open and walk out the door.

“I told you to stop touching my shit, Anni!” Scott grumbles, following after her and shutting the door behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted your keys cool, sire,” Anni says sarcastically, tossing the keys to Scott, who catches them at the last second.

“What are you talking about?” Scott asks, as the two walk to the side of the house to grab their bikes.

“You left your keys in the fridge from…whenever you came back,” Anni said, squinting at her brother suspiciously.

Scott blinked, “I did…? I didn’t even… never mind. Thanks, I guess.” He grabbed his bike handles, and began walking it to the pavement.

Anni furrowed her brows and grabbed her bike and did the same. As Scott was about to start pedaling, Anni put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Okay, what’s your problem? What happened last night? Why are you so out of it?” she asked, stepping in front of his bike.

Scott shook his head, “Nothing. Nothing happened. I just got lost, that’s all.”

“‘I just got lost’? As in you were alone? Stiles left you?” Anni frowned, trying to meet Scott’s shifty eyes. “Hey, look at me! Tell me the truth. What the fuck is going on with you?!”

Scott swallowed and lifted his shirt, showing the white bandage covering the bite mark he received the previous night. “Stiles didn’t mean to leave me,” he said, “He got caught by his Dad and didn’t rat me out, so I just started to head home. But, I got lost, and then these deer ran out, and I fell, and something bit me, and…I don’t know. I’m just tired. And I feel weird.”

Anni’s face twisted in concern as she peered down at the bite mark, experimentally poking it. Scott hissed and slapped her hand away. “Sorry,” Anni said sheepishly, “Maybe you should get it checked out. What if you, like, got rabies or some shit?”

“Rabies?” Scott questioned, “I would be foaming at the mouth by now.”

“Well, I don’t know, man! I’m not a doctor! Maybe ask Deaton about it or something.”

“Deaton? My boss Deaton? He’s a vet, Anni. I’m not a dog!”

Anni smirked, “Could’ve fooled me. You sure do act like one. And smell like one too,” she said, playfully holding her nose, “Ugh! Take a shower or something, dude!”

Scott rolled his eyes, and shoved Anni to the side, beginning to pedal down the road. “Thanks for the two seconds of genuine concern,” he said sarcastically, “It was almost touching.”

Anni hopped on her bike and began following him as they started down towards their school.

“Hey! I’m still pissed at you, you know! I hate when you leave me out when you go off to do cool things! I like dead bodies too!” Anni huffs, glaring at her brother biking next to her.

“Oh, great, Stiles has finally rubbed off on you. Glad you like corpses, NiNi,” he grumbles, “And, oh, I’m sorry, did you want to get bitten by some freak animal in the woods? My bad, next time I’ll make sure you get that opportunity,” Scott says dryly.

The two continue bickering as they enter the school parking lot and leave their bikes at the bike rack. Scott takes his helmet off, and is about to argue back to Anni, when he’s hit with a car door from behind, stumbling forward slightly. He looks behind him, frowning, to see Jackson Whittemore in all his asshole glory. Anni peeks out from behind Scott to see who it is and rolls her eyes once she takes in the silver Porsche. She takes her helmet off, and rests it on her handlebars, stepping onto the sidewalk. Jackson steps out of his car, eyeing Scott, and slams his car door shut.

“Dude! Watch the paint job,” he says, shoulder-checking Scott, who sports an expression of bewilderment. Jackson looks to the right, and spots Anni. He looks her up and down and smirks, licking his lips. “Hey mini McCall,” he says, sauntering over to her, “How was your summer?” He grins and throws an arm around her shoulders.

Anni’s face morphs into disgust and pushes Jackson’s arm off of her. Scott steps forward, moving to defend his sister, but Anni puts her hand up to stop him, wanting to deal with it herself.

“It was much better before you got here,” Anni said dryly, shoulder-checking Jackson as she walked closer to the school entrance. Jackson quickly followed, glaring at Scott as he passed him, stepping in front of Anni, and forcing her to stop.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, babe,” he drawled, “You know I was just joking around with Scotty over there. A little friendly fire between teammates. Nothing to worry your pretty, little head about.” He smirked and patted her head. “C’mon, you doing anything after school today? I’ll take you for a ride, and then maybe…you could ride something else, huh?” he grinned.

Anni fixed Jackson with a glare that could kill God, while Scott looked straight-up murderous. “You’re disgusting,” Anni hissed, batting his hands away from her, “You’re an asshole and I’m not interested. Oh, wait, sorry. Do I need to dumb that down for you? I’ll spell it out for you,” she smirked, “N-O-T I-N-T-E-R-E-S-”

Cutting her off, Jackson huffed, “Fine. Be a bitch, what do I care? You just lost your chance.” He goes to say something else, but he’s called by one of his friends and stalks off.

Anni faces Scott again, and shivers in disgust. “God, I hate that guy!” she says, “I’ve never met someone as entitled as he is. It’s a talent.”

Scott nods in agreement, slinging his arm around his sister’s shoulders and walking them both toward Stiles. “You okay, though? Glad you handled it yourself, but I could’ve stepped in.”

“Yeah, I’m good. I just wanna move on at this point,” Anni says as the siblings approach Stiles, who is standing under a tree waiting for them. Scott nods, and Stiles walks his way over to them.

“Okay, let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, as Scott pulls up his shirt to show Stiles the bite mark which is covered in gauze and tape that has a small amount of blood leaking through. “Ooh,” he says, making a face, as he pokes the bandage.

“Woah!” Scott exclaims, flinching at his touch, “What is it with you two poking my wounds?”

“Wait,” Anni said, narrowing her gaze at the boys, “You told Stiles about what happened and not me? You just lent this information out to him, and I had to practically drag it out of you this morning!” Anni snaps, crossing her arms over her chest.

The two boys look at each other sheepishly, feeling slightly bad. Scott rubs his hand over his neck and says, “Well…I told him last night. And…you were asleep. So…”

Anni rolled her eyes at his shitty excuses and deep breathed. “Whatever, let’s just drop it. But, going forward, you need to tell me shit like this okay? Mom would kill me if I knew that you snuck out and you ended up with rabies.”

“Okay, for the last time, I don’t have rabies! And if I did happen to have it, I’d be thrilled to learn that your only concern would be getting grounded,” he snapped back, “Anyway, it was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Anni raised her brows, recalling the strange incident that happened the other night. The wolf…Scott alone in the forest…him falling…could it be…real? No. No, it can’t be. That’s impossible. It was probably her worry about her brother infecting her dreams or something…but she wasn’t exactly asleep then, was she? A scoff interrupted her thought, as she snapped her head up to Stiles who was looking at Scott in disbelief.

“A wolf bit you?” Stiles said incredulously.

“Uh-huh,” Scott said, raising an eyebrow at his friend’s strange reaction.

Stiles shakes his head and gives him a look that says he thinks Scott is being dense. Scott knows this look well, as he receives it frequently from both Stiles and his sister.

“No, not a chance,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.

“I heard a wolf howling,” Scott said confused.

“No, you didn’t,” Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. The trio started walking closer to the school entrance, as the bell was going to ring soon.

“What do you mean, ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?” Scott said, frustrated.

“Because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? Not in, like, sixty years.”

The trio stop on the staircase as Scott and Stiles begin bickering again and Anni thinks about this new information. I guess if there are no wolves then…there’s no way what I saw could be true, right? I was probably just really, really sleep-deprived. Anni blinks out of her thoughts and focuses on the two boys in front of her.

“Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body,” Scott said, grinning at his best friend and sister.

Both Anni and Stiles jolt at this, whipping to face each other and exchanging a look in excitement. They both grab onto Scott’s arms, shaking him energetically.

“You-are you kidding me?” Stiles asked enthusiastically.

“No, man, I wish. I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.”

“Oh, god, that is freakin’ awesome! I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since-” Stiles cuts himself off, as the Queen Bee Lydia Martin walks towards the trio. “-Since the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia! You look-” Stiles once again cuts himself off as Lydia walks right past Stiles, completely oblivious to the fact that he is talking to her. “-Like you’re gonna ignore me…”

Anni and Scott attempt to hold in their laughter as their friend shoots and completely misses. “Someone should tell that girl that her boyfriend is flirting with other girls openly,” Anni said, exchanging a look with Scott.

Stiles whips around, grabbing Anni by the shoulders. “What? How do you know Jackson’s trying to cheat on Lydia?” he says as he slightly shakes Anni by her shoulders.

Anni lightly shoves Stiles’ hands off her shoulders with an amused expression on her face. “Uh, because he just tried to flirt with me,” Anni says matter-of-factly, “I obviously shot him down because he’s a disgusting pig, so I just feel bad for Lydia for having to put up with it. She could get any guy in the school, but for some reason, she chooses fucking Jackson Whittemore.”

Scott nods in agreement, but Stiles is left staring at Anni with his mouth agape. “Wait…Jackson Whittemore flirted with…you?” he asks incredulously.

“Um, yeah?” Anni said, confused at Stiles’ change in tone.

Stiles makes a face like he was physically hurt by Jackson’s actions. Anni continues to look confused at his reaction, as it seems to be more directed towards her than Lydia. She glances over at Scott who doesn’t seem to look confused at all. In fact, he looks like he knows something the other two don’t know at all… Anni opens her mouth to comment, but the bell rings and cuts her off. Stiles shakes his head like he was in a daze, and then looks toward Scott.

“You’re the cause of this, you know,” Stiles says to Scott, narrowing his eyes at him. The boy in question just rolls his eyes and begins leading his friend and sister into the building.

“Uh-huh,” Scott says, already beginning to tune Stiles out.

“Draggin’ me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you,” Stiles says, almost walking into a pole.

Anni snorts and tugs Stiles away from the evil pole. The trio stops as they enter the building, each of them taking out their schedules. Scott and Stiles have English together first, while Anni has Algebra first.

“I’ll see you two later. I’ll be in the bleachers at your practice. Try not to eat shit!” Anni waves as she leaves, grinning at the two boys, who roll their eyes at her and leave for their class.

..

The lacrosse team has gathered on the lacrosse field, where the players are warming up by passing the ball back and forth as other students congregate in the bleachers to watch the team play. Anni climbs up to the middle of the bleachers, sitting in front of Lydia and a brown-haired girl. She places her bag down to take out her notebook and begins doing some homework. Lydia and the unknown girl chat quietly behind her.

Anni looks up briefly to survey the practice in front of her and notices Scott as the goalie. A smirk crosses her face and she shuts her notebook. Scott’s never played goalie. This will be fun to watch, she thought. She takes her phone out of her pocket and gets ready to record some grade-A blackmail material.

Anni looks to the line of players to see who’s up first. Noticing that it’s Jackson, Anni groans and shuts off her phone, too annoyed by him to even record. Behind her, she hears Lydia and the girl talk about Scott.

“Who is that?” the brown-haired girl asks, looking at her friend.

“Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?” Lydia responds, twirling her hair around her finger disinterested.

Anni turns around to face the two and looks up at the girl with the brown hair. “He’s Scott,” she says, “He’s my brother. Scott McCall.”

The girl blushes at being heard, while Lydia is seemingly distracted with her nails. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t talking bad about him, or anything,” the girl says, “I’m just new here. Trying to make some friends. He’s in my English class.”

Anni nods and smiles at the girl, “Cool. I’m Anni. Or, technically Anathema, but nobody calls me that.” She grins and reaches her hand up for the girl to shake.

The girl smiles back and shakes her hand, introducing herself, “I’m Allison. Everyone just calls me…Allison,” she says with a small smirk. Anni laughs and Allison grins. Anni moves up next to her and nudges her shoulder.

“I think they’re starting,” Anni says, jutting her chin in the direction of the field. Both girls turn to face the practice, watching the players with keen eyes. The assistant coach blows the whistle, and Jackson scoops up the ball with his crosse, preparing to throw it at the goal (or more like right into Scott.) Anni looks over at the goalie’s net and sees Scott having some sort of fit and covering his ears. She narrows her eyes in confusion making a move to stand up, but Jackson throws the first ball, hitting Scott right on his helmet. He falls back from the impact.

“Oooh…” Allison and Anni grimace, looking down at Scott in concern.

“Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!” Jackson calls out, smirking as he walks to the back of the line. Anni rolls her eyes and flips Jackson off when he makes eye contact with her. Lydia huffs at this, fixing Anni with a glare that the girl willfully ignores. Anni reverts her vision to the main field as Scott stands up with a determined look on his face.

The next player tosses the ball towards him, and Scott catches it easily, to the point where he’s visibly stunned that he was able to do so. This sentiment is shared by the rest of his teammates, including Stiles, and his sister. Stiles lets out a little “Yeah!” and Anni whoops and claps. The second, third, fourth, and fifth shots are caught by Scott just as easily. Coach stares down at Scott with his mouth hanging wide open, unable to believe his eyes. Anni grins, clapping for her brother once more. Allison sends a small smile to Scott with a nod of her head, and even Lydia seems impressed by his skill.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison said, watching Scott intently.

“Yeah, very good,” Lydia responded truthfully, dropping her mean-girl act for a moment.

Anni grins at the two girl’s discussion, looking away from them and making eye contact with Scott. She mouths ‘nice one’, making him blush slightly, looking over at the two girls fawning over him. Scott is practically giddy as he bounces on the balls of his feet and smiles, which only makes Jackson more angry. Intent to take Scott down a peg so that he's back in the spotlight, he slams the top of his stick against the player who was set to practice his goals and ditches him in line. Scott tenses when he sees this and prepares for the worst.

“Oh, God…” Scott murmurs, tightening his hold on his stick nervously.

Jackson runs as fast as he can toward the goal and tosses the ball with all the force he can muster, but to Scott, the ball seems to be moving in slow motion, allowing him to catch it without hesitation. Anni, Stiles, and Lydia all jump up cheering for Scott.

“YEAHHHH!!” exclaimed Anni, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

“WOOOO!” Lydia screamed, sparing a smug glance at Jackson, before continuing to cheer on Scott.

“THAT’S MY FRIEND!!!” Stiles screams, hopping around and waving his hands around.

Allison watches Scott with interest as he throws a back-shot at the assistant coach, who just barely catches it with his stick.

..

After practice, Stiles, Scott, and Anni return to the woods to attempt to find the top half of the body Scott had found the night before as well as the inhaler he dropped in the process. The trio are talking about the day’s practice as their feet get wet in the mud.

“I-I don't know what it was. It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing. I-I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things,” Scott said, ducking under a low-hanging branch, his tone concerned.

“Smell things? Like what?” Anni questioned, hopping over a deep puddle.

“Like the watermelon gum you have in your pocket.”

Anni makes a face as though she thinks Scott is crazy as she pats her back pockets. “I don’t even have any watermelon-” Anni cuts herself off as she pulls out a single piece of folded-up watermelon gum, just as Scott sensed. Scott raises both of his arms in an “I-Told-You-So” gesture.

Anni examines the piece of gum for a moment, before offering it to Stiles. He makes a face, “Ugh. How long has that been in your pocket?” Anni shrugs, waving it around again as a final offer. Stiles analyzes it for another second before shrugging his shoulders and sighing, accepting the piece. He unwraps it, shoving the piece in his mouth, and begins to obnoxiously chew.

“So all this started with the bite?” Stiles asked, making smacking noises with his mouth as he chewed the gum. Scott winced at the noises, almost like they were deafening to him. This seemed to go unnoticed by Stiles, but Anni cocked her head in confusion at his actions.

“What if it’s like an infection? Like, my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” Scott questioned nervously, running a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure it doesn’t last a whole day, Scott,” Anni said dryly, looking at the forest floor closely in an attempt to find the missing inhaler.

Stiles gets a small smirk on his face before trying to make himself look as serious as possible, which Scott, who is walking in front of him, doesn't catch. “You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this-it’s a specific type of infection.” Scott whips around, his eyes widening with concern. Anni rolled her eyes, knowing Stiles wasn’t being serious and sick of his antics.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.”

Scott, still not realizing that Stiles is messing with him, starts to panic. “What’s that? Is that bad?”

Stiles nods seriously, “Oh, yeah, it’s the worst. But only once a month.” Anni snorts at this, sneaking a glance at Stiles who sends a playful wink in her direction. Scott, too deep in his paranoia, doesn’t catch this.

“Once a month?” Scott asks, running through all the possible diseases his mother taught him about in his head.

“Mm-hmm. On the night of the full moon. Aroooo!” Stiles howls, as Anni bursts into laughter at the sight of Scott’s red and furious face. Scott shoves them both away, causing the two to laugh harder at his embarrassment.

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling!” Anni called after him, as she and Stiles struggled to keep up with his pace.

Scott whipped around and leaned down to get into his little sister’s face, “Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me!”

From above Anni’s head, Stiles says, “I know! You’re a Werewolf! Rawrrrr!!” Scott is not impressed by this joke, and Stiles’ demeanor becomes serious. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But, if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon.”

Scott suddenly stops in his place, causing Anni to slam into him from behind. He doesn’t budge, and Anni reaches up to grip her nose, frowning in pain.

“No, I-I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler…” Scott looked around, peering behind trees and into the surrounding bushes.

“Maybe the killer moved the body?” Anni suggested, watching Scott scour around.

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are, like, eighty bucks.”

The trio is still looking around when suddenly, a man in his early twenties with pale skin, black hair, a black leather jacket, and a scowl appears in front of them.

“What are you doing here?” the man asks the trio gruffly, causing all three of them to jump back in surprise. The three of them visibly panicked, struggling to put together a response. Scott and Stiles subtly move in front of Anni, getting in between her and the strange man.

“Huh? This is private property,” the man growls, stepping forward, causing the trio to all take a step back.

“Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know,” Stiles said as Anni and Scott nodded in agreement.

The man’s attention is focused on Scott, who picks up where Stiles left off to try and relieve the tension, “Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott was about to continue when the man glared at him, after which point Scott lost his nerve and dropped the subject, “Uh, forget it.”

Suddenly, the man tosses Scott's inhaler at him before turning and heading back the way he came without a word, giving Scott one last look and seemingly paying Stiles no attention whatsoever. Scott sighs and gets ready to turn back in the opposite direction. Anni hesitates a moment watching as the man walks off. He pauses and looks over his shoulder at Anni. The two make eye contact, and Anni’s brows furrow in confusion at the familiarity of his eyes. Before she can think much more about it, the man turns around and stalks off. Anni returns her attention to her brother and Stiles.

“Um…All right, come on. I gotta get to work,” Scott says, leading the trio back the way they came.

Stiles yanks Anni by the arm as he catches up to Scott, bouncing in excitement, “Dude, that was Derek Hale!” Scott looks at Stiles blankly, and Stiles’ expression becomes incredulous. “You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

Scott frowns, “Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago,” Anni stated, rubbing her arm where Stiles had grabbed her. Scott looked both intrigued and concerned by this news.

“I wonder what he’s doing back…” he mused.

“Come on,” Stiles scoffed, grabbing his friends and walking them back to his Jeep. Scott, still looking toward where Derek headed out, slowly followed him.

..

Later that night, Anni was up late finishing up her homework at her desk. Her chin rested in the palm of her left hand, her right hand fiddling with the pencil she held between her fingers. She yawned, turning on her phone to check the time. Her clock read 10:43 PM. It’s late, she thought, I should head to bed. Don’t wanna have my weird sleep-deprivation visions again. Anni closed her textbook and grabbed her phone charger from her desk. She plugged her phone into the outlet by her nightstand, then stood up to go change and brush her teeth in the bathroom.

As she walked back into her room, she flicked off the light switch and crawled into bed, closing her eyes. Please, please, please let me go to sleep in peace. As she slowly drifted from the land of the awake, a bright light invaded her vision. Shit, no, no, NO, NO! Her eyes flew open, irises glowing an emerald green. Images flashed in her mind…a car with bright headlights…a high-pitched scream…banging on a glass door…a whimpering dog…a large wolf…and then, the visions faded. Her eyes returned to their normal color, as she caught her breath. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

This is insane. This is the second time now, this can’t be a coincidence. Aaaarrrgh! Anni rubbed her eyes furiously and flopped back onto her bed. She stared at the cracks in her ceiling, debating what to do. I could call Mom…she’s a nurse, maybe she could help me? Or maybe she’d just send me to a shrink and they’d lock me up in the looney bin…Ugh. Anni thought of her other options: I could tell Scott? Or maybe even Stiles? I mean, Scott already thinks he’s a werewolf so…this can’t be too weird, right?

Anni sighed, closing her eyes and rolling onto her side. She attempts to think of more ideas, but she slowly begins to fall into a deep slumber…

[greer2301]

If anyone asks me how often I cum to NickatniteX… I’ll lie, god he’s so good.

[magical-reid]

In Another League

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 900

Setting: Beacon Hills High School, Season 2 Timeline

Summary: Stiles Stilinski, caught in his usual whirlwind of chaos and awkwardness, finds himself hopelessly smitten by you after you unknowingly rock his world by wearing his lacrosse jersey at the pep rally. In a moment of fate, you tease him with a casual compliment, leaving Stiles both flustered and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to notice him too.

Stiles Stilinski was never subtle. It wasn’t in his nature. Where Scott McCall had his quiet confidence, Stiles had… well, everything else. The quick wit, the chaotic charm, the awkward stumbles—he was a walking open book of enthusiasm and panic. And right now, every single page of that book was consumed by one person: you.

You weren’t oblivious to his existence. How could you be, with Stiles’ constant flailing and frantic energy orbiting you like some hyperactive moon? But you… you just didn’t seem to care. Not the way he wanted you to, at least. Sure, you waved at him in the hallway sometimes, maybe smiled at one of his jokes when Scott dragged him into your circle during lunch. But you weren’t charmed. You weren’t invested. Not the way Stiles was.

Still, he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Day of the Pep Assembly

Beacon Hills High was a mess of chatter and excitement as students buzzed about the annual pep rally. Lacrosse season was in full swing, and the team was undefeated so far. Coach Finstock, naturally, had decided this called for some mandatory team spirit. As part of the festivities, every girl on the cheer squad—and a handful of volunteers from the student body—was assigned a player’s jersey to wear during the rally.

Stiles had tried not to hope. Really, he had. He wasn’t even sure if you knew he existed half the time. The idea of you—Beacon Hills’ own lowkey legend of intellect and effortless charm—volunteering to wear a lacrosse jersey, his lacrosse jersey, seemed absurd.

And then you walked into the gym.

The chaos of the assembly faded to white noise as Stiles’ brain short-circuited. You were there, wearing his number—24—draped over you like it had always belonged to you. The oversized jersey hung loose on your frame, and you’d paired it with jeans and your usual casual confidence. It wasn’t even a big deal to you. You laughed at something a friend said, completely oblivious to the seismic event you’d just caused in Stiles’ chest.

He nudged Scott—hard. “Do you see that? Are you seeing this?”

Scott barely glanced up from where he was tying his shoe. “Seeing what?”

“Her! Y/N! She’s wearing my jersey. Mine!”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Stiles, because Coach assigned it to her. Don’t overthink it.”

“Overthink it? Scott, this is fate!” Stiles hissed, clutching his chest like the mere sight of you had delivered a fatal blow. “This is destiny in the form of polyester fabric!”

Scott gave him a look, the kind that said calm down before you hurt yourself, but Stiles didn’t care. All he could see was you, walking across the gym, completely unaware of the riot you’d started in his chest.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Moment of Truth

The assembly kicked off with its usual fanfare—Coach yelling into a microphone, the team pretending to care, and the crowd half-heartedly clapping along. Stiles couldn’t focus on any of it. Not when you were sitting just a few rows ahead of him, your presence as dazzling as the sun.

You leaned over to whisper something to one of your friends, laughing softly, and Stiles swore he felt his heart physically ache. He was so busy staring—so utterly entranced—that he didn’t notice the nudge Scott gave him.

“Hey,” Scott whispered. “Go talk to her.”

Stiles froze. “What? No. I can’t just—are you insane?”

“You’re already staring at her like a creeper. Might as well say something.”

“Yeah, because ‘Hi, Y/N, I think about you every waking moment’ is such a great icebreaker,” Stiles muttered.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Just say something normal, man. Compliment her or something. Be cool.”

Cool. Right. Because Stiles Stilinski was the epitome of cool.

When the assembly ended, the crowd began to disperse, and you stood to leave with your friends. Stiles knew this was his chance—his only chance—but his feet felt rooted to the floor. He was about to chicken out when you turned around, catching him mid-panic.

“Hey, Stilinski.”

Stiles blinked. Had you… had you just addressed him? “Uh. Hi. Hey. Y/N. What’s… up?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Nice jersey. You think it suits me?”

His brain short-circuited for the second time that day. “I—yeah. Totally. You look amazing. Not that you don’t always look amazing. I mean, you could wear a garbage bag and still be—”

You laughed, cutting off his ramble before he could fully combust. “Relax, Stiles. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Totally relaxed,” he lied, every muscle in his body tense with the effort of not saying something embarrassing.

You gave him one last smile before turning to leave. “See you around, Stilinski.”

As you walked away, Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Scott clapped him on the back.

“Smooth,” Scott teased.

Stiles ignored him, too busy replaying the moment in his head. You’d talked to him. You’d smiled at him. And maybe—just maybe—you’d actually noticed him for the first time.

It wasn’t much, but for Stiles Stilinski, it was everything.

[em-ontv]

Hit and fall.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Summary: Stiles has been pining after you for years now, and this was his chance to woo you, at a lacrosse game, but nothing ever really goes his way, does it?

Content: no use of y/n, Stiles being clumsy and messing up, he's kind of down bad

Author's note: I cannot believe I haven't written anything for him yet, he's so UGH, the single best thing in the show. Not proof-read, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 786

Stiles had a problem. A big, heart-pounding, gut-wrenching problem. And that was you.

For years, he had harbored a crush on you, he sank so deep that it had basically become a third party in all of his conversations. He had known you since middle school, when you shared a science class together and he lent you a pen — only for you to reveal that you had your own pen all along.

"Just wanted to see if you were a good guy," you had said with a small smirk.

And that was it.

Stiles was hooked.

But tonight was different. Tonight was the night he was finally going to do something about it. Not some grand, fancy, caviar stuff, no. He had a simpler plan: impress you with his lacrosse skills at tonight's big game.

He had everything set up already, making sure to ask your friend to convince you to come since you didn't really go to any sports games. He figured if he showed you that he could be athletic and charming, maybe you'd finally see him as someone who's more than just the goofy guy from history class.

The problem though? Stiles wasn't exactly known for his athletic skills. Sure, he was on the lacrosse team, but, uh, he was mostly on the bench… yeah, it took some convincing for Coach Finstock to let him play tonight.

Still, Stiles was determined. He practiced, maybe not as much as he should have, but he practiced. And he had been psyching himself up all day, telling himself that tonight was the night he'd finally make his move.

You agreed to your friend's invitation to come to the game. All the stars are aligning, this was his shot.

And then he saw you.

You were in the stands, cheering with the rest of the students, an excited grin on your face. His heart leapt into his throat. His palms started to sweat. This wasn't good. He hadn't planned for this. He hadn't planned for you to be here — well, he had — but not for you to look so radiant and supportive and just so… you.

"Stiles. You okay, man?" Scott called from the field.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good!" Stiles called back, but he wasn't. Not even close. His mind was scrambling, a mess of everything that all led to one point: You were here. Watching him. Right Now.

The game started, and for the first few minutes, he managed to hold it together, he did pretty good, actually. But then he made the mistake of looking up at the stands again, and there you were, waving at him with that smile that made his insides twist up in knots, his legs felt like they were giving out right then and there.

And that's when things started to go very, very wrong.

He missed a pass. Then another. He tripped over his own stick, stumbled into Matt, and accidentally whacked Isaac in the shins with his lacrosse stick.

"Stilinski!" Coach Finstock bellowed from the sidelines. "Are you trying to lose us this game single-handedly?!"

"Sorry, Coach!" Stiles shouted back, trying to regain his focus. But it was useless. His nerves were twisted, his concentration shattered.

And then, just to add salt to the open wound, a well-aimed shot from the other team's captain hit him square in the chest.

Stiles went down like a sack of potatoes.

The world blurred around him, gasps and murmurs from the crowd filling his ears. But all that was on his mind was, Great. Just great. I'm finally gonna get her attention, and it's because I'm flat on my back like a total idiot.

When he finally managed to sit up, he saw you in the stands, your eyes filled with concern and shock. Perfect. Just perfect. He had managed to embarrass himself in front of you in the most spectacular way possible.

Stiles limped over to the bench at the sound of a whistle being blown, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest and the throbbing embarrassment in his soul, trying to grapple onto the last of his dignity while he sank down onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He could already hear the teasing he was going to get from Scott and the rest of the team. But the worst part? He had blown his chance with you.

As he sat there, wallowing in his misery, he finally peeked through his fingers to see you in the stands, laughing with your friend — were you laughing at him? Did you think he was an idiot now? Well, to be fair, the fall to the ground was a little ridiculous.

Great.

Just great.

[voltronisanobsession]

There’s a need for more Isaac Lahey fics and I’m glad someone just started watching the show again.

Taking a Break | Isaac Lahey x Reader

There needs to be more fics of teen wolf on here in GENERAL, it feels like I’m grabbing for scraps at this point😭💔💔 love my homeboy isaac so I’ll quickly write something teehee

Click. Click. Click

The sound of a pen echoed throughout the classroom, some students looking towards the source of the annoying sound, others sighing loudly at the persistent clicking.

Click. Click. Click.

You sat in silence, staring at the board in front of you. Not even realizing you had become a disturbance for the entire class, you continued playing with your pen, lost in thought.

With all the killings happening around town, your nerves had reached an all time high. You had no idea what to expect at this point! Everyone thought Stiles had found a pattern to the killings, or ‘sacrifices’, until the killer decided to change things up.

Click. Click. Click.

Everything was getting a little too frustrating, you couldn’t even focus in school! No matter what you did, your mind just seemed to be in another place. Not even your boyfriend could bring you back to reality at this point.

Click. Click. Click. Cli-

The pen that was once in your hand was snatched away from you, snapping you out of whatever spell you were under. Looking up to the teacher, you could only internally cringe at what was about to happen.

“Is this seriously necessary? This was the most annoying thing you could’ve done in my class of all places. I hope you don’t plan on becoming a professional pen clicker because that job would suck! For everyone!”

Coach Finstock walked away and began talking to the class about whatever he was teaching today, fiddling with your pen as he continued. Huffing, you slumped against your seat and stared at the clock as its hands slowly moved around.

Feeling eyes on you, you slightly looked back only to see Isaac staring at you. When you finally notice him, Isaac gives you a confused look to as if to say ’what’s wrong’ which you could only mouth out ‘nothing’.

You whipped your head to the front though when a book was slammed on your desk.

“Y/N! You just became my least favorite student in this class, congratulations! You’re making me question why I decided to chose being a teacher as a career, thank you!”

Finstock placed the pen back on your desk. His eyebrows furrowed at the face you were making.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s scary.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything?” Your face scrunched up in annoyance.

“Oh ho, yes you are! It’s the same face that that Silinski kid gives me when I make him run laps around the gym!”

The bell rang causing everyone to get up, you quickly packing your bag and rushing out the classroom. Coach totally made everything worse for you if you were being honest.

So eager to leave the school, you didn’t even hear the sound of your boyfriend calling out to you from the sea of students. Confused, Isaac fought his way against the current of students, all excited to begin the weekend and be away from school, to get to you.

Finally reaching you, he lightly grabbed your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you ok?”

Shifting your attention to the tall boy, you gave him a small smile. Just looking at him made some of your nerves calm down.

“Uh yeah, stuffs just been taking a toll on me lately.”

At that, Isaac frowned. You both continued walking, hands now linked together. Walking out the school, you both fell into a comfortable silence. You lost in thought while Isaac wondered what was bothering you.

Was someone bothering you? Have your teachers been giving you a lot of homework? Glancing at your tired face, he couldn’t help himself from asking questions.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean, about the stuff that’s been bothering you.”

Sighing, you let go of Isaacs hand, causing him to unconsciously chase after it. You smiled at the action.

“I guess with everything that’s been going on around town, with all the random killings, I just- ugh. I don’t know but it’s been really draining my energy. And making me kinda anxious, lowkey.”

Once you started talking, you couldn’t stop the waterfall of words that seemed to shoot out of your mouth.

“And not just the killings Isaac, but having to guess where this killer will take its next victim is so frustrating! We don’t know when it will happen and who it will happen to!

“It feels like we’re just sitting around waiting to find a new corpse! And like I said, we don’t know whose getting targeted. For all we know, it could be Allison, you, me-!”

Isaac cut you off suddenly, forcing you to stop walking by pulling you towards him. His hands gripped your upper arms, keeping you in front of him, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey, I know it feels like we’re getting nothing done right now, but we’re all trying. It’s a slow progress, but we have something. That’s what matters.”

He placed a hand on your cheek. Leaning into it, you sighed. “This really has been on your mind, huh?”

Groaning, you nodded and dropped your head onto the boys chest, causing him to let out a small laugh. Hugging you, the werewolf could only hope he relieved some of your nerves. Suddenly an idea popped up in his head.

“What do you think about a self care weekend? Something to get your mind off things.” He smiled as you let out a confused sound.

“What about the others? What if they need us or something?” Pulling away from him, you grabbed his hand and continued walking, pondering the idea of a self care weekend.

“I think Scott and the others can handle a weekend without us.” Isaac snickered, happy to see your mood changing as you got excited.

“And if anything, they can just text us. Or Scott can howl. Either works fine to be honest.” At that, you laughed, your body relaxing the longer Isaac spoke.

Silence again fell between you both but it was different. You were now smiling, happy that Isaac gave the suggestion of taking a break. Isaac internally high-fived himself, a grin breaking onto his face.

Bringing his hand up to your lips, you kissed the back of it.

“Thank you.” Smiling, he did the same thing, gently kissing your hand, loving the way your face flushed a pretty pink.

“Anything for you, love.”

[darkintothedawn]

THE BEAST'S BEAUTY || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Male reader

Summary — Stiles isn't expecting much when he decides to go with Scott to the Beacon Hill Art Gallery but then he's finding photos of him half shifted and his night is ending with kisses to his hand a possible date around the corner.

Memo— Two fics in one day? Who have I become?

Word Count — 6579

Warnings — Fluff. Rambling Stiles. Possibly ooc. Werewolf!Stiles.

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

The Beacon Hills High gym was alive with energy, buzzing with chatter and the occasional laughter of students admiring each other’s work. Rows of booths, each showcasing different forms of artistic expression, filled the space. Paintings of moody landscapes, abstract sculptures made from metal and clay, and delicate sketches lined the walls. There was even a section where a group of students had set up an interactive digital art display, flickering with shifting neon hues.

The scent of fresh paint and glue from last-minute touch-ups lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of sweat from the athletes who usually occupied the gym. The soft hum of classical music played over the speakers, an attempt to make the event feel more sophisticated, though it was occasionally drowned out by excited conversations and the beeping of a cash register at a fundraising table selling snacks.

Stiles didn’t particularly care for art shows—not because he didn’t like art, but because the last time he’d attended one, he had spent half the night trying to convince Coach Finstock that someone hadn’t actually painted a demonic summoning circle on their canvas. It turned out to be abstract symbolism or whatever, but given the things Stiles had seen in this town, he wasn’t taking any chances.

So, to say he wasn’t expecting this to be the thing that made his pulse spike was an understatement.

He walked alongside Scott, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, trying to act as though he wasn’t paying attention to the hushed whispers surrounding a particular booth toward the back of the gym.

It had started as just another rumour. Did you hear? He actually caught something on camera last week. No way, those were just blurry shadows. No, I’m serious—everyone who’s seen them says they’re insane.

Stiles hadn’t thought much of it at first. He was used to people running their mouths about supernatural nonsense, and half the time, it was nothing more than someone thinking they saw a werewolf when it was just a particularly large dog.

But then, it kept coming up.

And it wasn’t just the usual “ghost story” nonsense. People weren’t scared—they were fascinated.

“I swear, if they actually have a picture of the Beast, I’m going to—” Stiles muttered, his voice low enough that only Scott could hear.

Scott shot him a curious glance. “You’re gonna what?”

Stiles opened his mouth, but he had nothing. What was he going to do? Demand you take them down? He wasn’t exactly in a position to go throwing accusations around when he was the thing you were allegedly photographing.

Scott smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Stiles huffed but kept walking. He could already hear snippets of conversation from the group gathered around your booth.

Stiles felt his stomach twist. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but something about the way people were reacting made his skin prickle with unease.

“This is insane. How did you even get that close?”

“Did you use a long exposure lens or something? The detail is unreal.”

“Honestly, I thought all those stories were just bull, but damn.”

Scott’s smirk had faded, his expression shifting into something more curious than amused. “Okay,” he admitted, “I kinda want to see this now.”

They reached the edge of the crowd, and Stiles’s breath caught in his throat.

Your booth was set up with the same careful attention to detail you put into your work. The photos were mounted on sleek black boards, displayed in a way that felt almost curated rather than slapped together for a high school event. You’d strung up dim fairy lights, giving the whole thing a soft, ambient glow. And the centrepiece of it all?

Images of him.

Stiles barely registered the stunning shots of the forest at night, the way the moonlight cut through the trees, the artful balance of shadow and light. No, his brain short-circuited when he saw the pictures.

Him. Half-shifted.

Amber eyes glowing. Claws flexing. The sharp curve of his fangs visible in a half-snarl, frozen in time. The way his body seemed to blend seamlessly into the forest, the undeniable presence of the creature captured with a level of skill that honestly made Stiles wonder if you moonlit as a National Geographic photographer.

It wasn’t grainy, shaky footage taken from someone’s crappy iPhone. It wasn’t some blurry shadow that could be passed off as a trick of the light.

It was him.

And it was…

Beautiful.

He could see why people were talking. Why no one was running in terror but rather staring in something closer to awe.

You had captured something primal, something both inhuman and undeniably alive.

And then he heard your voice.

You were talking to someone, completely lost in your own world, eyes shining as you gestured toward the images.

“People always focus on how terrifying it is,” you were saying, enthusiasm lacing your words. “But look at it—look at the symmetry, the way the light catches in its eyes. It’s like it belongs in the woods. It’s not just some mindless monster. There’s something human in it, you know?”

Stiles forgot how to breathe.

Scott went rigid beside him, finally seeming to realize what they were looking at.

“Oh,” Scott whispered.

That was it. Just oh.

Because what else was there to say?

You weren’t just intrigued by the Beast of Beacon Hills. You weren’t trying to prove it was real for fame or to expose the supernatural world.

You were captivated by it. By him.

And then—because of course this was how it was going to go—Scott, naturally, took the opportunity to make things so much worse.

Stiles had faced terrifying things before. He had gone toe-to-toe with murderous alpha werewolves, outsmarted ancient trickster spirits, and even once had a screaming match with Peter Hale, which was, in hindsight, probably more dangerous than either of the first two.

But this?

This was new.

This was worse.

Because standing in front of him, in the middle of the Beacon Hills High art show, completely oblivious to the existential crisis you were throwing him into, was you.

And you were looking at him—well, Beast Him—with something bordering on awe.

Scott, of course, was eating this up, which only made Stiles’s suffering worse.

“Huh,” Scott mused, tapping his chin with a thoughtful expression that Stiles knew was just a front for the pure, unfiltered amusement dancing in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could call it beautiful. You know, if you’re into that.”

Stiles choked.

Scott smirked, but you barely seemed to notice. You were too busy admiring your own work, gesturing to the images with a look of quiet reverence, the kind of expression someone might wear when talking about a masterpiece hanging in the Louvre.

“I mean, look at it,” you said, leaning forward, eyes bright as they scanned over the photographs. “The proportions are incredible—strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, the way the light highlights the angles of its face? It’s like something out of a fairy-tale. And the eyes…”

Oh no. Oh no.

Stiles could feel his soul leaving his body.

“The eyes?” Scott prompted, because he was an asshole.

You nodded enthusiastically, completely unaware of how the words you were about to say would ruin Stiles’s life forever.

“They’re so expressive,” you said, voice full of admiration. “Like, sure, they glow and that’s objectively cool, but there’s something behind them—something intelligent. And not just ‘animal smart’ like a predator hunting its prey. There’s depth. Emotion. It’s like they’re saying something without ever needing to speak.”

Stiles’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

You turned your head slightly, looking at another one of the images—one where he was caught mid-movement, partially crouched, muscles taut beneath his skin.

“And it’s not just the eyes,” you continued, oblivious to the way Stiles was visibly dying beside you. “Look at the stance—everything about the way it holds itself is so human. There’s this tension, like it’s constantly holding itself back, like it’s fighting between instinct and thought.”

Scott snorted.

Stiles whipped his head toward him, eyes screaming shut up right now before I commit a crime.

But Scott was far too entertained.

“Oh wow,” he murmured, biting back a grin. “That’s… really insightful. You’ve really, uh, thought about this, huh?”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Well, yeah. It’s fascinating. I mean, people talk about the Beast like it’s just some mindless monster, but when you really look at it? There’s more going on. It’s almost like…” You trailed off, thoughtful. “Like it’s hiding something.”

Stiles felt his knees buckle.

Scott made a soft hmm sound, nodding. “Yeah, I can see that. Something… hidden. Something human.”

He gave Stiles a sideways glance, grinning when he caught the look of pure, undiluted suffering on his face.

You didn’t notice.

You were still lost in your own world, eyes darting between the images as you spoke, completely unbothered by the growing meltdown occurring in real-time next to you.

“And honestly, the whole figure is just… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s strong, obviously, but not in a bulky way. It’s more—” you waved a hand in the air, searching for the right word “—lean. Defined, but not overwhelming. The kind of build that’s built for speed, not just power. Which makes sense, considering how fast it moves. But then there are the details, too—like the hands? Have you seen them?”

Scott, to his credit, was holding in his laughter incredibly well.

Stiles, on the other hand, was vibrating out of existence.

“The hands?” Scott echoed, playing dumb just to watch Stiles suffer.

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah! They’re just—God, I don’t know, perfect? Like, clawed but still dexterous? There’s something about them that just seems like they should be dangerous, but at the same time, they’re almost… elegant.”

Stiles was going to pass out.

“I mean,” you continued, “If you really look at them, they’re not that different from normal hands. The fingers are just a little longer, a little sharper, but the way they move? Still so human. And then there’s the posture—”

Stiles whimpered.

Scott straight-up cackled.

You blinked, looking between the two of them with a frown. “What?”

Scott took a deep breath, composing himself just enough to not burst into another fit of laughter. “Oh, nothing,” he said, voice strained with amusement. “I just love how into this you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance in your expression. “I just think it’s interesting.”

Scott nodded, barely suppressing another laugh. “Oh yeah, for sure. Really interesting. Fascinating, even.”

Stiles shot him a murderous glare, silently promising death.

You, of course, were still completely oblivious.

“You guys are weird,” you muttered, shaking your head before turning back to admire your photos.

Scott grinned. “Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles wanted to die.

He had been possessed by a literal demonic entity, hunted by supernatural assassins, and, on more than one occasion, had willingly thrown himself between his best friend and certain death with nothing but a bat and sheer audacity. He had seen things that should’ve left him rocking in a corner somewhere, mumbling about existential horror and the fragility of life.

But this?

This was something he had never once prepared for.

Because this was you, standing in the middle of the Beacon Hills High art show, surrounded by walls of photographic evidence of his secret werewolf form, and fawning over it like it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life.

And you weren’t just admiring it. No, that would’ve been normal—or at least as normal as things ever got in Beacon Hills. Instead, you were standing there, staring at those photos, voice full of something almost like wonder, completely oblivious to the way Stiles was actively trying not to combust right next to you.

You tilted your head slightly, studying the largest image—the one where he was caught mid-motion, muscles coiled with barely restrained power, glowing eyes staring straight into the camera like he was looking through it.

“I need to see it again,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Stiles choked on air.

Scott stiffened beside him, clearly holding back laughter.

But you weren’t paying attention to either of them. Your gaze stayed locked on the image, brow furrowing slightly, as if you were frustrated by your own work.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” you continued, gesturing at the prints, “These are good. I got some decent shots. But it’s not enough. I was still too far away.”

Stiles blinked rapidly, trying to process the fact that you—the same person who had voluntarily climbed onto the school roof last semester on a dare, just to get a “Better angle” of the town skyline—were now actively disappointed that you hadn’t been closer to the literal monster in the woods.

“I need to get closer next time,” you said with absolute certainty, completely oblivious to the silent, screaming meltdown happening just inches away from you. “A proper close-up, something that really captures the details. The way it moves, the structure of its face—God, especially its face.”

Stiles was going to die.

Scott, meanwhile, was thriving.

You sighed, shaking your head. “The photos don’t do it justice.”

“Oh?” Scott mused, eyes glinting with amusement. “And what would do it justice?”

Your lips parted, and then—without a hint of irony, without even realizing you were about to obliterate Stiles’ entire existence—you said,

“Seeing it up close. In person.”

Stiles whimpered.

Scott was going to explode.

“Just imagine,” you continued, completely lost in your own world, “Seeing it up close. Watching how it moves, how its muscles shift beneath its skin, how its breath fogs up in the cold. And the eyes—”

Not the eyes, oh my God, please don’t talk about the eyes, Stiles mentally begged.

“The way they glow?” you mused, still staring at the image. “It’s not just the color. It’s the expression. It’s not empty, you know? There’s something behind them. It’s so—”

You exhaled, searching for the right word, then finally landed on,

“Stunning.”

Stiles made a tiny, strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Scott, no longer even pretending to be a good friend, let out a sharp, amused breath through his nose.

It wasn’t fair. Stiles had spent years being the awkward one, the guy no one ever looked at like that. He had been third-wheeling his own life since middle school. And now, here you were, full-on swooning over him without even realizing it—except you thought you were talking about some cryptid, some unknown, unreachable creature, not the awkward disaster standing right next to you.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Scott shot Stiles a look, and Stiles knew that if he didn’t stop this soon, Scott would never let it go.

Desperate to put an end to this spiral before it got any worse, Stiles tried to play it cool—tried to act like this wasn’t the most surreal, unhinged experience of his life.

“Okay,” he croaked, “But, like. In a normal, human way, right?”

You blinked, only now noticing how weirdly they were acting. “What?”

You blinked at Stiles, confused by the sheer panic in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Stiles’ mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again, as if he was trying to find any way to phrase his next sentence that wouldn’t make this whole situation worse. Spoiler alert: there wasn’t one.

Scott was still watching with barely contained amusement, clearly enjoying every second of this absolute train wreck unfolding in real time.

“I just mean,” Stiles tried, hands twitching like he wanted to physically grab the words out of the air and rearrange them, “You think it’s… y’know…” He waved a vague, flustered hand toward the wall of photos. “Beautiful in a totally objective way, right? Like an artistic appreciation type of thing? Not in a—” He cut himself off, looking horrified by whatever he had almost said.

Your frown deepened. “What other way would I mean it?”

Scott snorted. Stiles looked like he wanted to die on the spot.

“I mean, you did say stunning,” Scott added helpfully. “Not interesting, or cool, or even weirdly majestic—you said stunning.”

“Well, yeah.” You nodded, as if that was obvious. “Because it is.”

Stiles was two seconds from full-body vibrating out of existence.

Scott’s grin only widened. “And you need to see it again?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, with conviction.

Stiles let out a tiny, pained sound.

“I barely got a glimpse of it in person,” you continued, crossing your arms. “I want to see it properly, up close. Maybe even interact with it—if it would let me, of course.”

Scott choked on his laughter.

Stiles, meanwhile, was spiralling. He could not deal with this. This was not something he had ever prepared for. Because no one—not a single person in his entire life—had ever looked at him, human or half-shifted, and said, Wow, you’re beautiful.

And sure, technically, you weren’t saying it about him, but that only made it worse because you were saying it with so much sincerity—like you were actually entranced by him, even if you didn’t know it.

Before he could stop himself, before his brain could engage even a little, Stiles blurted out—

“So, what, you’re like Beauty in Beauty and the Beast but, y’know… a dude. And a photographer. Instead of, like, books.”

Silence.

A long, painful silence.

Stiles winced so hard he nearly folded in on himself.

Oh my God, oh my God, why do I open my mouth? He knew this was going to happen. He knew he was going to say something stupid and ruin another social interaction and have to go live in the woods like a cryptid himself—

“Oh,” you said thoughtfully.

Stiles froze.

Scott froze.

Wait.

You weren’t laughing. You weren’t giving him a weird look. You weren’t brushing it off like a joke.

You were… considering it.

Scott wheeze-laughed so hard he had to turn away.

“You’re—” Stiles’ voice came out strangled. “You’re actually thinking about that?”

You shrugged, tilting your head as if genuinely debating the logistics of it. “I mean… I’d have to think about it,” you admitted. “It’d depend on a few things.”

Scott lost it.

“Depend on a few things?!” Stiles repeated, voice cracking as he gawked at you.

Scott nearly doubled over.

You barely even reacted to the sheer panic radiating from Stiles. Instead, you tapped a finger against your chin, deep in thought. “Yeah. Like, could it have an actual conversation? Or would it just be all growling and cryptic one-liners?”

Stiles blacked out for a second.

Scott, still grinning, nudged him with his elbow. “Oh, I promise you, it’s very chatty.”

You hummed, nodding. “See, that’d help its case. Communication is important.”

Stiles made a noise that wasn’t human.

“And then, obviously, there’s the Harkness test.”

Scott straight-up choked on his own breath.

Stiles turned bright red. “Oh my God.”

Scott wiped away an actual tear from his eye. “Oh my God.”

You shrugged again, entirely unfazed. “I mean, it’s a hypothetical. But if we’re playing along, I do have standards.”

Scott was grinning so wide it looked like his face was going to split in half. “So, just to clarify,” he said, eyes gleaming, “You’re saying you’d consider it. Depending.”

You nodded again, entirely serious. “Yeah. Depending.”

Scott clapped a firm hand on Stiles’s shoulder, looking like all of his Christmases had come at once. “Congrats, dude. You might have a chance.”

Stiles made a tiny, broken noise.

Scott grinned. “You’re literally his type.”

Stiles covered his face with both hands.

You just blinked, still a little confused but rolling with it anyway. “Huh.”

Scott leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you like freckles? A strong jawline? A lean but athletic build?”

You frowned in thought. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

Scott barely held back his cackle. “No reason.”

Stiles, still hiding his face, groaned. “Scott, I swear to God—”

But it was too late.

Scott had won.

Scott was having the time of his life.

Stiles, on the other hand, looked like he was two seconds from digging a hole in the middle of the art show floor and launching himself straight into the earth’s core.

You, completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown happening beside you, were still staring at your photos with that same thoughtful expression, like you were mentally deconstructing every angle, every shadow, every detail of the creature you had captured.

Scott, catching the way your fingers itched for your camera, the way your gaze practically burned with fascination, decided that he was not done making Stiles’ life a nightmare.

“Alright,” Scott said, far too casually, crossing his arms. “So, let’s say this thing—” he gestured vaguely toward the photos, “—Has a human form, right?”

You hummed, nodding slightly, already running with the idea. “Yeah, I was actually thinking about that. Most cryptid sightings have some kind of lore behind them, and a lot of cultures have stories about shapeshifters. I mean, look at werewolves.”

Stiles flinched.

Scott barely held back a grin. “So you think it’s a werewolf?”

You shrugged, eyes still locked on the images. “It fits, doesn’t it? The eyes, the claws, the full moon connection. It’s pretty classic werewolf mythology, though the design is way more interesting than the usual ‘giant wolf’ thing.”

Scott nodded, his expression way too neutral to be innocent. “Okay. So let’s say it is a werewolf. That means it’s gotta have a human form, right?”

You nodded again, not noticing the way Stiles was looking more and more like he wanted to evaporate on the spot.

Scott rubbed his chin, still playing it so casual. “So, hypothetically… what do you think it looks like?”

You tilted your head slightly, considering. “Hm. Hard to say. I mean, if I had a better look at its body structure, I could probably make an educated guess, but…”

Scott beamed. “Oh, no worries. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Stiles whipped his head toward Scott, silently screaming at him not to do this.

Scott ignored him entirely.

“So let’s say, in human form, it’s…” He paused, as if carefully constructing the perfect description in his head, and then— “Lean, but still fit, you know? Like you said before. Not overly muscular, but strong. Agile. More on the wiry side.”

You nodded along, lips pressing together in thought. “Makes sense. The way it moves, it’s definitely built for speed. Not a tank, but something fast, something with stamina.”

Scott’s smile widened. “Exactly. And maybe it’s got freckles, right?”

Stiles’ stomach dropped.

“Oh, definitely,” Scott continued, still acting oblivious. “Like, a lot of freckles. All over. Especially on its face.”

You made a small, intrigued noise. “That’d be cool. The contrast would be interesting. Light freckles, maybe? Something subtle, but noticeable up close.”

Stiles made an actual strangled sound.

Scott soldiered on, clearly thriving. “And obviously, it’d have really expressive eyes. You know, the kind that are always moving, always full of emotion, like you can read every thought it has if you just look close enough.”

You let out a breath, nodding along, your gaze flickering to the biggest photo on the wall again. “Yeah… that fits. Something really alive.”

Stiles was going to die.

Scott wasn’t done.

“Oh! And messy hair.” Scott snapped his fingers. “Like, perpetually windswept. Something that always looks like it’s just barely holding itself together.”

You let out a soft chuckle, clearly picturing it now. “That definitely makes sense. The wildness in the shifted form, the way it moves—it makes sense the human version wouldn’t be too polished either.”

Scott nodded seriously. “Right, right. Maybe brown hair. Kind of fluffy but always a little out of control.”

Stiles whimpered.

Scott grinned. “And maybe a strong jawline, too? Like, sharp enough that it kinda throws you off at first, ‘cause it doesn’t quite match the rest of the soft features, but once you notice it, you can’t unsee it?”

You let out a thoughtful hum. “Yeah… that’d be striking. The mix of softness and sharpness. Something kinda unpredictable, in a good way.”

Stiles, fully malfunctioning, buried his face in his hands.

Scott, barely suppressing his laughter, turned back to you. “So, hypothetically, would that be your type?”

You stood there, arms crossed, deep in thought. Scott waited, all too patient, watching as you actually considered it. Stiles, meanwhile, was in the middle of an out-of-body experience.

Finally, you exhaled through your nose, tilting your head slightly. “I dunno. I think I need more to go on.”

Stiles visibly tensed. Scott, on the other hand, lit up like you had just handed him a golden opportunity—which, in a way, you had.

“Yeah?” Scott asked, stroking his chin like he was really putting effort into this little creative exercise. “Alright, I can work with that.”

Stiles shot him a desperate look, but Scott ignored it entirely.

“So, let’s see,” Scott continued. “This werewolf’s gotta have a lot of energy, right? The type that just never really goes away, like it’s always buzzing under the surface. Like, even when it’s standing still, you can kinda feel it vibrating.”

You made a small, interested noise. “That makes sense. There was something about its stance in the pictures—like it was always ready to move. Like it never fully relaxes.”

“Exactly,” Scott said, grinning. “And it’s gotta be smart, too. Quick-witted, always thinking, always planning, even when it doesn’t seem like it. Maybe a little too smart for its own good sometimes.”

Stiles groaned quietly into his hands.

Scott wasn’t done.

“Oh, and expressive,” he added, snapping his fingers. “Like, really expressive. Can’t hide a single thought to save its life. Everything just kinda plays out on its face, y’know?”

You huffed a small laugh, nodding. “That definitely tracks. The way it moves, the body language—it’s like it wears its emotions on its sleeve, even in that form.”

Scott smirked, barely biting back a chuckle as he went in for the kill.

“And maybe—just maybe—it talks a lot.”

Stiles whipped his head toward him in pure betrayal.

Scott kept going. “Like, the type to ramble when it’s nervous. Kinda awkward, but in a way that’s more endearing than anything. A little chaotic, but with a good heart, y’know?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, amused. “Honestly? That would make it so much better. A lot of these cryptids get portrayed as all mysterious and broody, but I like the idea of one that’s just talkative as hell.”

Scott grinned, shooting Stiles the smuggest look imaginable. “Right? Gives it personality.”

Stiles was dying.

He was actively dying.

Stiles, for lack of a better term, was fried.

He was completely, irreversibly, brain-meltingly fried.

His brain had not just short-circuited—no, that would imply there was still some kind of function left. His brain had blue-screened. It had died a tragic death, and there was no reboot in sight.

Meanwhile, Scott was thriving.

“Oh, Stiles,” Scott cooed, clearly holding back evil levels of laughter. “I think that question was directed at you.”

Stiles did not respond. He could not respond.

He was too busy having a full-blown existential crisis.

Because what was he supposed to do with this information?!

You—the same you who had been fearlessly throwing yourself into danger for years, the same you who had stared down a literal monster through a camera lens without flinching, the same you who had spent this entire conversation waxing poetic about the so-called ‘Beacon Hills Beast’—had basically just said, in no uncertain terms, that you would be into him.

Him. Stiles.

Not hypothetically into some imaginary werewolf dude.

Not into some random, fictionalized version of a shapeshifter.

No, you were into that exact description—which was literally just him.

And you didn’t just say you liked it. You said it was hot.

You said you’d go for him—as long as he’d go for you, too.

Which meant—

Which meant—

“Oh my God,” Stiles breathed.

You blinked at him, frowning slightly. “Uh. You good?”

Scott was grinning like a madman.

“Oh, he’s great,” Scott said, slapping Stiles on the back, nearly sending him into another dimension. “Aren’t you, bud?”

Stiles made a noise that sounded vaguely like a dying animal.

You raised an eyebrow. “You guys are acting weird.”

Scott’s grin widened. “Am I? I don’t think I am.”

You turned to Stiles, who was still sitting there, looking like he’d just been hit by a semi-truck made of pure realization.

“You, though?” you added, tilting your head slightly. “You look like you’re having a crisis.”

“I am having a crisis,” Stiles blurted out, voice cracking slightly.

You frowned, confused. “Why?”

Scott lost it. He actually had to turn away, covering his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Stiles turned to him, wild-eyed and panicked.

Scott, still laughing, very pointedly did not offer him a way out.

Which meant Stiles had to deal with this on his own.

Oh God.

He turned back to you, swallowing thickly, his entire body burning with embarrassment. “Uh.” He licked his lips. “You do realize—like, you get that you were literally just describing me, right?”

You stared at him. Blinked.

Then—

Then, your eyes widened just slightly, something clicking in your expression.

Stiles braced himself, fully expecting you to be weirded out, to backpedal, to laugh and say, “Oh, crap, I didn’t even realize, never mind—”

Instead—

Instead, you tilted your head, really looking at him now.

And then—then—

You let out a soft, almost delighted hum.

“Oh,” you said simply, blinking at him in quiet realization.

Oh?! OH?!

Stiles gawked at you. “Oh?! That’s all you have to say?!”

You shrugged. “I mean, you do fit all the descriptions.”

Stiles felt faint.

You studied him, gaze flicking over his face, his features, your lips pressing together thoughtfully before you suddenly let out a short breath.

“Damn,” you muttered, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, I’d definitely be into you.”

Stiles made an actual choking noise.

Scott fully doubled over, wheezing with laughter.

You, meanwhile, just stood there, completely unfazed, nodding to yourself like you had just made a scientific discovery.

And Stiles—poor, poor Stiles—just sat there, burning alive, barely processing the fact that he had somehow, some way, stumbled into the most unbelievable conversation of his life.

Stiles was still processing—or rather, failing to process—what had just happened when you suddenly turned to Scott, completely unfazed, and asked,

“Wait, why did you describe Stiles so perfectly for that hypothetical?”

Scott wheezed.

Stiles whipped his head toward you, eyes still wild with disbelief. “Are you—Are you seriously only just now questioning that?!”

You shrugged, like this was normal—like this whole situation was just another casual conversation. “I mean, I was busy thinking about how hot the werewolf sounded.”

Stiles made another one of those tiny, pained noises.

Scott, still grinning like a menace, just patted him on the back again, which somehow felt even more patronizing than before.

“But, like,” you continued, turning back to Scott, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. “Was that just a coincidence, or was there a reason for it?”

Scott bit his lip like he was trying so hard not to laugh. “What do you think?”

You pursed your lips, tapping a finger against your chin in thought. Then, after a moment, you hummed. “Oh! Is it because Stiles is kinda a social outcast?”

Stiles visibly recoiled. “Excuse me?!”

You held up a hand, your expression completely neutral. “No offense.”

“That is so offensive,” Stiles sputtered. “You can’t just say that and then act like it’s not offensive—”

“I just mean,” you interrupted, waving a hand vaguely, “He’s, like, always been kind of an odd one out, right? I mean, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but a lot of people don’t really get him.”

Stiles gawked at you, jaw on the floor.

Scott, meanwhile, was absolutely delighted.

You weren’t even done.

“Like, he’s not a loner, obviously,” you continued, “He has friends—but he’s weird, y’know? Just a little too much for a lot of people. Talks too fast, thinks too fast, does things that don’t always make sense to other people.”

Stiles made a strangled noise. “I—?!—”

Scott nodded sagely. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You pointed at him. “Right?! Like, people like him, but they don’t always get him.”

Scott hummed in agreement, then shot Stiles a mischievous look. “But some people do get him.”

Stiles buried his face in his hands.

You just shrugged. “I mean, yeah. I think he’s great.”

Scott beamed. “Oh, I know you do.”

Stiles groaned.

Stiles had faced a lot in his life.

He had stared down death more times than he could count, had fought monsters, had gotten possessed by an actual demonic entity, had spent most of his teenage years just barely avoiding getting ripped to shreds by something bigger, meaner, and way more supernatural than him.

And yet—yet none of that had prepared him for this.

For you.

For this entire conversation.

For the way you had so effortlessly dropped the casual equivalent of an actual, real-life confession in front of him, as if his brain was capable of processing something like that.

Because no one had ever been into him before.

Not like this.

Not so openly, so blatantly, with zero hesitation.

But there you were, just standing there, looking completely at ease as you pulled out a sleek, professional-looking business card—because of course you had business cards, you were insanely talented—and held it out to him.

“Anyway,” you said, like this was just a totally normal conversation and not something that was actively rewiring his entire brain chemistry, “If you swing that way, I’d really love to go on a date with you.”

Scott choked.

Stiles froze.

His entire body locked up, and he knew—he just knew that if someone were to poke him right now, he’d probably fall over like a stiff plank of wood.

Because—because—

“What?!” he squawked.

You blinked at him, brow slightly furrowed. “What, do you not?”

And, okay. That was a fair question, considering he had just been having a full-blown existential crisis over the fact that you found him hot.

But still—

“I—No, I do!” he blurted out, voice cracking slightly as he flailed his hands, his brain still trying to catch up. “I definitely do, I just—what?!”

Scott, who had clearly decided to become an agent of chaos today, was wheezing with laughter, practically doubled over from how hard he was trying to hold it in.

Meanwhile, you were just standing there, looking at Stiles like he was the one being weird about this.

“I mean, Scott basically just pointed it out,” you said, so casually it was physically hurting Stiles, “And now that I think about it, you really do sound like the perfect guy for me.”

Brain. Gone.

Stiles’ soul left his body.

His entire world tilted for a second, and he had to actually remind himself to breathe.

Because you had just—just—

Scott had to turn away, shoulders shaking violently, because he was barely containing himself.

Stiles, helplessly, made some kind of wild, flustered hand gesture. “You—You can’t just say that so casually—”

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head, your expression completely genuine.

Stiles gawked at you.

“Do you want me to be dramatic about it?” you added. “Throw in some poetry? Drop to one knee?”

Stiles made a wounded noise.

Scott, who was having the time of his life, nodded encouragingly. “I think he’d explode if you did that.”

“True,” you agreed, sounding almost disappointed that you wouldn’t get to test that theory. Instead, you finally placed the business card in Stiles’ still-outstretched, slightly trembling hand. “So, yeah. Think about it. No pressure or anything, but I’d really love to take you out.”

And then—

And then—

You kissed his hand.

Softly, briefly, but deliberately.

And Stiles died on the spot.

Scott audibly gasped like he was watching the most dramatic romance movie of all time.

Stiles malfunctioned.

Because people didn’t do that anymore.

That was a medieval thing. A lady and gentleman thing.

And—And if anything, you would be the lady in this scenario and—

Wait.

Wait, no, that didn’t make sense because you were a dude.

Would that even work?

Were there even gay relationships back then?

Would a knight have kissed another guy’s hand? Or would they both be the gentleman? Would they take turns? Was there, like, a rule for this?

Oh God, was he overthinking this?!

Oh God, was he underthinking this?!

Scott, who had clearly noticed the way Stiles’ entire existence was falling apart in real time, turned to him with a huge, mischievous grin.

“So, Stiles?” he prompted, his tone way too entertained.

Stiles squeaked.

And then—because clearly, clearly, you had been sent from the heavens to ruin him—you flipped his hand over and pressed another soft, deliberate kiss to the back of it.

Stiles forgot how to function as a person.

Scott actually gasped again, like he was watching the peak of cinematic romance unfold right in front of him.

And Stiles—Stiles was spiralling.

Because—because—

Because, logically, this didn’t make sense.

Someone like you—someone beautiful and talented and stupidly fearless—couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like him.

And yes, okay, maybe you’d just spent the last fifteen minutes accidentally waxing poetic about how stunning you thought the Beacon Hills Beast was, and yes, maybe that was him, but—

But that was different.

Because that was the beast.

That was the dark, half-wild thing that lurked in the woods, the thing people only spoke about in hushed whispers, the thing he couldn’t always control.

And even if you were into that for some reason—which, apparently, you were?!—that didn’t mean you’d actually be into him.

Not like this.

Not as Stiles.

Because Stiles was too much. Too weird. Too loud.

People tolerated him, but they didn’t—

“Seriously,” you hummed, completely unaware of the breakdown happening right in front of you. “You might be the perfect guy for me.”

Stiles blushed so hard he nearly passed out.

Scott, who had clearly sensed that Stiles was reaching his absolute limit, just grinned, delighted by the absolute chaos of it all.

And then—then you casually waved a hand toward the rest of the bustling art show like none of this had just happened and said, “Anyway, unless you guys actually want to buy something, you’ve taken up too much of my time. I have other customers.”

Stiles made another tiny, wounded noise.

Scott actually had to turn away to compose himself.

Because—because, oh yeah. The Beacon Hills Annual Art Showcase. That thing they had technically come here for.

Stiles felt like he had just been hit by a truck.

And you—you just stood there, completely unbothered, waiting for them to either buy something or leave.

Scott, to his eternal shame, actually had to pull Stiles away from the booth, because he was still standing there, holding your business card, shell-shocked.

And Scott—Scott was never letting him live this down.

[perseephoneee]

ice skating [ficmas day 7] [isaac lahey x reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

anonymous: I saw your post about ficmas 24. can you please write smth with Isaac and ice skating?

author's note: i went ice skating with @muffinbeliever and it was so terrifying all i did was almost cry

playlist:

the moon will sing -- the crane wives

i'll be home for christmas -- she & him

gold rush -- taylor swift

Beacon Hills officially had a high school hockey team.

You don’t remember when Coach Finstock lost his mind, but you assume it’s been a long time coming. It’s the only explanation for why he thinks this would be a good idea.

Especially since his ‘hockey team’ is just his lacrosse team on skates. Many of them can’t even skate. You’re unsure how he coerced the team to even participate. 

“This is painful,” Allison commented, and you had to agree. You both accompanied Scott and Stiles to hockey practice, Allison to see her boyfriend, and you to get a free ride. You still didn’t have a car (you hoped to fix that soon).

You watched Stiles fall face first.

“It’s pretty awful,” you hissed, watching another teammate crash into the wall. “I kinda want popcorn.”

“Me too.”

You both were heathens.

Danny was reasonably competent and would be very solid with a few more practices. The other surprising one was Isaac, who was skating laps around everyone. Scott wasn’t falling, but he wasn’t confident either. Werewolf instincts meant jack shit in the face of skating.

“Did he just do a little hop and a skip?” You remarked as you watched Isaac. You couldn’t help but watch Isaac. He was aloof and not amazing at conversations, but he was alluring. Maybe it was the jawline or his eyes. You were unsure. Sometimes, he’d take Scott’s bike to school when Scott rode with Stiles, and sometimes, he’d drive you home. Those were your favorite days.

“He’s ridiculous,” Allison chuckled as Isaac continued to show off. He and Danny were playing their own game of hockey at this point. You didn’t want to look at what Stiles was doing; it made you sad. Allison turned to you. “Ten bucks says Stiles, knocking over Scott.”

“You’re on, Argent.”

You were $10 richer by the end of practice, in large part thanks to the fact that a conga line of lacrosse-turned-hockey players took out Scott, who then wiped out Stiles. It was inherently painful but insanely funny. At least the ice rink had concessions. You were sipping a blue slushie when the boys came out, broken and battered.

“I want to be eaten by a wolf,” Stiles sighed. A bruise was forming on his arm. 

“Sure, but it’s not going to remedy the fact you can’t skate,” you chuckled. He glared at you.

“You’re not funny.”

You sipped your slushie, hiding your laugh. Isaac came out a few seconds later. His hair was slightly damp, and it looked like he had run through the rain. It was way too sexy and made your stomach turn. He waved in greeting.

“What flavor?” He inquired, pointing to your cup. You stuck out your tongue to show the blue dye. He just nodded. 

“Isaac, can you take Y/N home? Allison and I were heading to Stiles,” Scott asks, tossing his keys to the beta. He catches them quickly. Isaac nods, not bothered, but it doesn’t stop you from worrying you were a burden. Not that he’d ever tell you that you were. 

The night air was crisp as you climbed behind him on the bike. He always gave you the helmet, even though you should both have them. He argued he could heal. You couldn’t fault his logic. 

You were on your way a little later, arms tight around his middle as you savored the few moments you could pretend to be his.

Isaac started to slow down, and you lifted your head to ask why, but he shushed you. You slowed to an idle, barely fast enough to stay up. His proverbial wolf ears perked up. He decided a split second later, quickly swinging the bike around and taking off much quicker than before. 

You yelped as you gripped him tighter. You could hear engines behind you, which did not bode well. He went off-road, starting to serve through side streets in a way that made you nauseous. A shot rang out.

You had nowhere to hide as more bullets were fired. Isaac quickly turned, the bike screeching. He launched you both off of it, covering your body with his as the asphalt cut into your skin. You wanted to cry out but didn’t. Not when you were more concerned about finding safety. Isaac gripped your hand, dragging you to the backdoor of a building. He tore off the handle and shoved you in.

The alcove was small, and you pressed up against him as he looked out the window, watching your pursuers run by. A few seconds later, you both let out long breaths. 

Isaac relaxed against the wall, grimacing. That’s when you noticed the patch of blood blooming from his flank. You stifled a screech.

“Isaac—“

“Is there first aid?” He coughed, looking around the room you were in. It was the kitchen of a diner. You went through five cabinets before finding first aid. It wasn’t much, but you made do. You were too distracted by his wound to process his shirtlessness.

The bullet wasn’t deep, or maybe it had been, and his healing pushed it out. You weren’t sure. Your minimal nursing skills came in handy as you bandaged him up. He might be able to survive, but it wasn’t painless. 

When you were done, you made him swallow some ibuprofen. Your hands wrapped gauze around his middle, hiding an obnoxiously sculpted chest from you. Fucking werewolves.

Isaac’s eyes traced your face, a frown marring his expression. He traced your arm with a finger, and you hissed in pain as he found the fracture that you had been trying to hide. He was on you in a second.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“My wound isn’t bad like yours,” you protested. Isaac took his discarded shirt and tore it into cotton strips. He fashioned a makeshift cast for you before cleaning up your arm. You realized it was the most tender moment the two of you have had. He took some cotton balls and wiped some blood off your temple. 

“I didn’t know you could skate,” you murmured, breaking the silence. Isaac’s mouth quirked up. 

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Kind of,” you tried to shrug, but it just hurt your arm. 

“My brother was a hockey fan. He’d take me to the rink,” Isaac answered, applying a small bandaid. He never talked about his brother; you didn’t want to push. “Derek mentioned there might be some bounty hunters. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“It’s fine, Isaac. Really.”

“You should come back to see Melissa for that arm,” Isaac moved to put his shirt back on, and you bit back disappointment. He glanced outside and, feeling safe, led you both out and back to the bike. It was scraped up but still worked. Isaac put you on the front of the bike since his torso was still healing. He wrapped his arms around you to grab the handles, and you couldn’t help but inhale his smell of petrichor and pine. You wanted to lean into him and never leave. 

You could’ve fallen asleep like this, even with the wind biting into your skin. Fortunately (for your sanity), you pulled up the McCall residence no longer after. Isaac helped you off the bike and led you up to the front door. 

You’ve been to the McCall residence a few times, and each time were struck by how much warmth Melissa had managed to infuse into the place. She came out of the living room when you both entered.

“What the hell happened?” she inquired, coming to you first. 

“Bounty hunters,” Isaac said matter-of-factly. 

“Why do I let any of you outside,” Melissa mumbled. She took you to the bathroom to take a look at your arm. You were happy to hear that your arm wasn’t broken, but there was lightly a fixture that needed to be watched. She gave you pain meds and redid your cast. 

“Do you think I could stay here tonight?” you asked, adjusting your arm in its cast. “I just don’t feel like going home right now.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Melissa smiled, kissing your head. She felt like your other Mom. 

She gave you some of her pajamas and a toothbrush so you could get ready for bed. You were thankful she was there to help you maneuver out of your clothes so you could put on the pajamas. You tried not to think much about Isaac in the next room. When you were all done cleaning up, you went to the living room to get situated on the couch but found Isaac already lying there on his phone. He had also changed into sleepwear. 

“I was going to sleep here,” you stated. He glanced up at you, jawline and all. You really needed to get your priorities straight. 

“You should take my room; it’ll be more comfortable.”

“You got shot.”

“I’m already almost healed, and you’re in a cast,” Isaac pointed out. “Trust me, you’ll want a bed.” You didn’t ask if it was a sports injury that let him know that or something his Dad inflicted. Isaac, when he wanted to be, could be frustratingly stubborn. You took your leave to his room.

You had never been in Isaac’s room, and you took the opportunity to do some high-level snooping. No judgment; you weren’t perfect. There wasn’t much snooping to do, though. The room had minimal decorations. There was a ball poster that was so utterly stupid you had to hide your laughter. There was also a snoopy ornament on his desk. That fact made you smile. 

Sleeping in Isaac’s room was already going to be a bad idea. The sheets smelled like him. The room felt like him. You were one delirious episode away from stealing his shirts and pretending like you were waking up next to him. You would call Allison and freak out, but that would involve admitting that you found the beta wolf attractive. 

The pain meds plus Isaac’s bed made your insomnia take a back seat, allowing you to fall asleep. You woke up in time for school, only because Scott is one of the loudest people you had ever known. He stumbled into everything and slammed open every door. 

You got dressed in your clothes from yesterday and made Isaac’s bed. You brought the folded pajamas downstairs. Isaac and Scott ate all the pantry food while Melissa downed a cup of coffee before her shift. 

“Thanks for letting me stay, Ms. McCall,” you smiled, voice quiet.

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome. I’d offer you breakfast, but I think they ate it all,” Melissa nodded towards the two boys. You stifled a smile as she rummaged through the pantry again. “Actually, I found an apple. And peanut butter.”

“That’s usually what I have,” you shrugged, taking the granny smith from her and finding a cutting board. You ate your breakfast and sipped some coffee with milk while observing everyone run around the kitchen. You grabbed Isaac’s sleeve right before leaving the kitchen. “Thanks for letting me use your room,” you muttered. “And for yesterday.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. He paused, shifting his feet. “Have you ever skated before?”

You shook your head.

“I could teach you…after hockey practice.”

“In case I get shot on the ice?”

“Yes, for that,” Isaac smiled. You felt your heart drop into your stomach, butterflies filling the now-empty cavity. You don’t know what Hallmark movie you were in, but you liked it. 

School couldn’t go by fast enough. You had to come up with a plausible excuse for your arm around teachers, but the pack immediately jumped on the case. Stiles was itching for some snooping work, and you think you just gave him a good reason to break into his Dad’s safe again. You made a mental reminder to send an apology to Sheriff Stilinski. 

You told Allison about your night over lunch.

“You have a date with Isaac Lahey,” Allison gushed, passing you a potato chip.

“I do not,” you responded, mouth full of crunch. “He probably just feels bad about me getting hurt and just is trying to make up for it.”

“So he could buy you lunch, give you rides to and from school,” Allison responded. “Not take you ice skating, just the two of you. It’s a Hallmark movie.”

You put an apple slice in her mouth before she could say anything else. 

“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“That’s fine,” Allison chewed, the words garbled from the bite. “I’ll get my hopes up for you.”

Allison accompanied you to hockey practice, but not before giving you some of her clothes and lipgloss. While you grumbled, you were thankful not to be wearing the same clothes you got shot at. The sweater she lent you was soft, and the leggings were comfortable and stretchy. Perfect to fall on your ass in. 

Hockey went as well today as yesterday. Danny and Isaac continued to have a squirmish of their own while the other players tried to remember what a skate was. A few of them were getting better; you could see a small team starting to form. None of the players getting better were Scott and Stiles. Scott’s werewolf reflexes did not translate to the ice. 

“Werewolves on ice, coming to a theater near you,” you mumbled. Allison was hiding her eyes at their skating. You were fighting the urge to do the same. Fortunately, your torture came to a halt as Coach fell on the ice and canceled the rest of practice out of anger. You waited till everyone was gone to bother approaching the rink, the feeling of drums in your heart matching each step. Isaac skated around the rink and came to a stop by the entrance. 

“I want you to know I’ve never skated, and I’m very, very scared,” you gulped, your healthy arm holding your fractured one against your chest. Isaac smirked.

“I won’t let you fall.”

Your fingers shook when you went to grab rental skates and even more so when you put them on. You had to do a sort of waddle across the padded floors to the entrance, and you looked at the ice like it was the deep ocean. Unknown and utterly horrifying. 

“You won’t get hurt, I promise,” Isaac chuckled, holding out his hand. You stared at it. 

“What if I trip and pull you down?”

“You won’t.”

“I’m very good at hurting other people,” you whispered. Isaac skated closer to you, a towering figure. He grabbed your hands, unclenching your fingers. Your breath caught as he pulled you onto the ice. It was slippery, and you didn’t like how your feet slid across it. Isaac held you steady, correcting your weight if you started to wobble. He skated backward, going slow as you tried your best to calm your breathing. 

“Look at me, don’t look at your feet,” he said. You looked at him, his gaze intense, and you forced yourself to not break. You listened to his every instruction, bending your knees slightly, pushing out instead of forward, until you started to feel somewhat more solid. Isaac noticed when you began to relax more. “Do you trust me?”

“No,” you answered, still not trusting of the ice hell you were in. Isaac laughed. 

“I won’t let you go,” he muttered before doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t. He let one of your hands go, twirling you. You stifled a scream as your feet slid across the ice, but he kept his initial promise and didn’t let you fall. He pulled you back into him, closer than before. You stumbled and fell into his chest; he skated you both to a stop. You tried to push back before you made the situation more awkward, but he kept you close, his hands on your back. 

You kissed your teeth. 

“I’m terrible at skating,” you murmured. You felt the vibrations of Isaac’s laugh. 

“That’s okay,” he smiled, that crooked half-smile you often long for. You tilted your head up, Isaac’s nose nudging yours. Your body felt hot, even in the cold room. Still, you shivered from his touches, proximity, and everything. He looked at you through his lashes, his eyes the color of sea foam and lakesides. Your eyes fluttered closed when he brushed his lips over yours. It wasn’t enough, so you pushed closer. His mouth was firm, and you wished you could go on your toes to get closer. The only thing keeping you stable was Isaac. His hands roamed your sides, your neck, everywhere he could hold. He deepened the kiss, and you sighed. It was too soon when he pulled away, even as you realized you forgot to breathe. 

“Do you still want to skate?” he murmured.

“Will you kiss me if I fall and embarrass myself?”

“I’ll kiss you even if you do a good job.”

“Then I most definitely still want to skate,” you grinned. 

You did fall later on, but you weren’t in pain. Isaac was able to catch you. 

taglist: @alice3612 @rafecameronswhore @evasmlp @awnmaknees

[nino-rox]

ANOMALY | CHAPTER TWO

Stiles Stilinski x Original Male Reader | M.O

Warnings : None, Teen Wolf AU, Teen Wolf x Original Male Character, Teen Wolf SPOILER ALERT, Gore

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

{Author’s Note: Thank you for the requests! Please leave a comment or suggestion!}

[CHAPTER 2] [2,500 words]

As you reached the benches, you were absolutely fucking appalled; how is it that wherever you went, you'd run into those two boys - they were sitting next to Lydia - you sighed, taking a deep breath as you walked over, putting on your best smile...

The two boys glanced at each other, not expecting you to be the one to show up.

Lydia was the first to speak, "Oh, Y/N, hey. Glad you could make it."

"Of course, thanks for inviting me," you responded.

"This is Scott; he's in our biology class. He's really nice, and that's Stiles. They're childhood friends. You met them this morning. "

"Yeah, I did," you chuckled.

"So, Y/N, Lydia tells us you're from Los Angeles?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah, I am,"

"Why move?" Stiles questioned abruptly.

As Lydia took a breath, mildly embarrassed at Stiles' inability to subtly ask someone a question without sounding like he was interrogating them.

"My mother got a job here," Y/N replied, smiling. 

"So what was the deal with the 10-foot metal chain you carried around?" Y/N asked, curious, making Lydia raise an eyebrow towards the duo.

"We had it in the trunk of our jeep, and it kinda fell out and rolled… in your locker," Stiles said, making a face and grinning in the hopes you'll let it go, while Scott looked pale and tense.

Despite sensing they were obviously hiding something, Y/N decided to let it go -  "So you were planning on chaining something or someone? What is it, like a kinky sex thing?" You said, laughing, and Stiles' eyes widened in shock at your question.

Stiles is still in shock, mildly blushing. Scott and Lydia just look at him in amusement and then look away, laughing.

"HEY MCCALL!!" The coach's voice interrupted from the other side of the seating area.

"YOU and BALINSKI BETTER GET YOUR ASSES TO PRACTICE NOW!!!"

Scott glanced at Stiles, signalling something. Stiles nodded, not noticing you had caught their little exchange. This piqued your interest, so you decided to try tagging along to…you know…get to know your lovely friends better (that's LA slang for stalk these dum bitches)

"You guys have a practice or something? I've got nothing to do. Can I tag along?" Y/N asked

"Uhhh yeah, sure," Scott responded, not knowing why he did. Stiles immediately snapped his head to Scott in pure disbelief as if he'd blown some cover.

You followed the boys, and on the way, Scott and Stiles explained lacrosse to you - you never said you didn't know the game - they assumed you'd never played.

The team was warming up, and Scott took his post as goalkeeper while you sat at the bleachers to watch the boys. 

Suddenly, your phone rang. Perfect timing, you thought to yourself. You quickly picked up your best friend's call and caught her up on everything.

"I was thinking of trying out on their team. What do you think ?" Y/N asked Maria.

"No way. I thought you said you were done with lacrosse after what happened?"

"Yeah, but like it or not, this might be a clean slate…"

Suddenly, you saw the goalie (goalkeeper)—Scott—run towards the charging player and tackle him, both falling to the ground. This caused the coach to abuse air into his whistle, fuming at what he saw.

"Did that goalie just leave the..?" Maria, who was also watching through FaceTime, asked, confused

"HEY MCCALL ????? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ??? The position is goal KEEPER, not goal ABANDONER. STOP LEAVING THE GOAL POST," Coach Finstock Yelled into Scott's ears.

You chuckled, amused at what you were seeing

"Yeah, you still want to try out for their team babe?" Maria shot smugly.

As the next player began to charge, Scott suddenly left his position again, his whole team confused, and coach Finstock looked like he could resign at any minute. Maria laughed, "You were right; these two are crazy AF."

You noticed something weird. When Scott tackled the other boy to the ground, it was almost as if … he… sniffed?…him.

After another yelling from the coach, Scott did the same thing again, and you saw it happen again; you were sure of it. He leaned in and sniffed the guy before looking towards Stiles and shaking his head. 

"I was thinking of trying out on their team. What do you think ?" Y/N asked Maria.

"No way. I thought you said you were done with lacrosse after what happened?"

"Yeah, but like it or not, this might be a clean slate…"

Suddenly, you saw the goalie (goalkeeper)—Scott—run towards the charging player and tackle him, both falling to the ground. This caused the coach to abuse air into his whistle, fuming at what he saw.

"Did that goalie just leave the..?" Maria, who was also watching through FaceTime, asked, confused

"HEY MCCALL ????? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ??? The position is goal KEEPER, not goal ABANDONER. STOP LEAVING THE GOAL POST," Coach Finstock Yelled into Scott's ears.

You chuckled, amused at what you were seeing

"Yeah, you still want to try out for their team babe?" Maria shot smugly.

As the next player began to charge, Scott suddenly left his position again, his whole team confused, and coach Finstock looked like he could resign at any minute. Maria laughed, "You were right; these two are crazy AF."

You noticed something weird. When Scott tackled the other boy to the ground, it was almost as if … he… sniffed?…him.

After another yelling from the coach, Scott did the same thing again, and you saw it happen again; you were sure of it. He leaned in and sniffed the guy before looking towards Stiles and shaking his head.

You don't know what you were witnessing, but something weird was going on.

The sheriff came onto the field, escorting one of the boys Scott tackled to a van. Seeing this, Y/N began making his way to the two boys.

The boys weren't facing him and didn't see him coming close. As Y/N approached, he stopped after overhearing something they had said. 

"How good are these cells at holding people?" Scott asked in a worried tone.

"People, good…werewolves ?? Not so good."

You were confused. Is this what people meant by weird stories and stuff about this place? Are these two nuts part of some ghost-hunting club?

Y/N hears Scott say something about a wolf and a scent.

"It's him. He's a werewolf, I know it. We have to get him. He's got a scent to main and kill people,"

"How can you tell?"

"I don't know, I just can, and his father just died, and they think he did it, so that's not helping."

What the hell are these two talking about? You heard the sheriff tell the boys they had to leave. You turned around, avoiding whatever mess they were about to get into.

"So, are you going to try out for the team?" Stiles asks as he approaches Y/N.

"Ummm, no, not interested, and I was just kidding earlier," you said.

"Aw, and I thought we'd get to hang more", Stiles pouts.

You roll your eyes playfully at him and start walking, but suddenly, as Stiles follows, he falls down, "OWWWWWW."

"You okay?" Y/N asked.

"Yup, totally," Stiles said as he picked up his lacrosse stick.

You could tell the boy was lying and trying to hide the fact that his ankle hurt, and Y/N had to admire his attempt at protecting his ego.

"Here, lean on me," Y/N said, sighing as you helped him.

Stiles looked at Y/N in utter confusion.

"Are you serious?" Stiles asked, surprised that Y/N didn't just laugh and walk off.

"Yes, you dumbo. Come on, lean," Y/N said, laughing slightly and rolling his eyes - something inside him feeling just a little bit weird.

Stiles wrapped his hand around Y/N as they continued to the parking lot to his jeep. 

The walk was silent. Both boys noticed each other's breathing as the wind gently blew past them. The loud world felt somewhat calmer as leaves rustled in the wind, and the nature around them felt like a peaceful addition to the sound of their footsteps. 

Y/N was always fond of scents; it was perhaps one of his more stereotypically "effeminate" traits as compared to his general masculine nature for the most part, according to his best friend. He couldn't help but notice that despite Stiles not seeming to have any perfume on, his scent was…Y/N pondered how to describe it for a moment before settling on a simple "It's nice…" Not known to Y/N, the boy by his side was enamoured by Y/N's scent; it wasn't a masculine cologne or a feminine scent; it was just sweet, but just the right amount, almost addictive, with a hint of something that made you feel like perfection?

(Author's Note: LMAO Stiles, are you sure it's the "scent" you're finding so 'perfect’ ?? Awww)

As the boys neared the parking lot, Stiles stopped momentarily, looking at you, breaking the silence. "Y/N… I'm sorry about the morning, with the chains and stuff," he said slowly, his voice trailing.

"Oh, that? Don't worry about it; it was nothing," Y/N said, smiling slightly.

"I don't think so… at the moment when it happened, you seemed to be quite upset, it was like for a moment I saw some panic, you didn't like being in the centre with everyone eyeing you…I…think…so you don't have to brush it off and say it was nothing, so I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

As much as you tried to hide the fact that his words affected you, your eyes widened, and you froze, the smile on your face faltering. You knew one day someone would have been able to see through your facade, except perhaps not so soon.

Y/N didn't quite know what to say as the buzz-cut boy stared into his eyes; perhaps Stiles was more than a dunce…Y/N had never noticed that Stiles had read him that much; a part of that fact scared Y/N. It was threatening that someone read emotions he might've buried. Either way, he was grateful for Stiles' apology, but saying thank you and acknowledging Stiles would mean accepting that he was indeed "that" bothered by what had happened, and he tried to hide it. Y/N wasn't mentally ready for the stranger he met to know that. 

Somewhere deep down, Y/N wanted to hug Stiles and thank him for caring enough to notice and care about him—a stranger he didn't even know, who, until now, had just looked down on him and wanted to avoid him.

"I think you're reading into it too much, Stiles. Besides, I was just shocked and caught off guard, nothing more. It doesn't mean anything, so it's fine," Y/N said, walking forward while supporting Stiles.

Stiles knew the boy was lying. He wondered why Y/N seemed … scared, but he couldn't help but respect that Y/N wasn't ready to open up...yet.

As the two boys walked to where Stiles said he parked, Scott was near his blue jeep, leaning against the side while talking to someone on the phone.

"That blue jeep is mine," Stiles said as he checked out the sleek black SUV parked next to him, mouthing damn as if he had just checked out a hot girl.

Y/N couldn't help but smirk.

"This one's yours, huh?" Y/N asked, pointing towards the jeep.

"Yes, she is. What about her?" Stiles asked.

"You should really get it fixed; the entire body's dented," Y/N replied.

"Heyyyy, she's fine. She's been like this for years, and she's still running well. Besides, I have duct tape," Stiles said defensively, which made Y/N laugh.

"Hey, let's go ?" Scott said, getting into the jeep. Y/N took his arm off Stiles' side as he got into the car, waving as the clunky jeep drove off.

He took a deep breath, looking at the dusk sky, tired and shocked. His first day had been more complicated than he had expected.

Y/N got into his car and sat behind the steering wheel, not quite knowing what to think or how to react. Everything felt different—his day, his emotions, his heart? He felt knackered and needed some sleep, so he drove home.

As he reached his home, Y/N saw a note his mother left saying she was staying late at work and not to wait for her.

He walked into his room, stripping and quickly showering before bed.

Y/N didn't know what had happened. He was always fine being alone and never needed friends or companionship. But today, as he lay in bed, something about the day's events kept running through his mind. He had a strange urge to call his mom and talk to her, but she had an important surgery, and he didn't want to bother her. So, Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, and as he dozed off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel like a certain "scent" was missing.

After his day, it didn't take long for Y/N to drift into a slumber. But the cold kept him from getting comfortable. He shifted around, turning and tossing, but it was no use; it felt likely it was getting colder; annoyed that his sleep was disturbed, Y/N got up to turn up the heat, freezing in shock.

It was pitch black, and the comfort of his bed no longer supported his body - it was nowhere to be felt - and crickets chirped as thin beams of moonlight shone through dense trees—Y/N was in a forest.

As Y/N felt the wet ground and mulch under him, the reality and panic began to set in. He was in a forest! A dark forest, cold, half naked, and something was…hurting.

Y/N felt it, and there was an overwhelming sense of pain.

His mind was hazy, and as his hands found the source of his pain, his eyes watered at the sight of a bear trap digging into his foot, blood spilling.

Panic filled his head; the pain, the forest, and the cold made his senses overflow, and not before long, Y/N felt something … something was there…just ahead of him…looking right at him…he could feel it in his gut…but the darkness masked it. . .It was right there…

The air was cold, and the silence was deafening; all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat.

He felt the presence coming closer, and as the wind blew, a gust of cold air hit him, carrying a scent. The scent smelled like something was rotting or slowly…dying.

Y/N whimpered in silence, trying to move back, but the trap held him firmly in place. He was powerless, pinned down by the trap, unable to get up and run, and as his fear peaked, he saw something terrifying.

Its eyes glowed yellow, as dark slits in its eyes appeared, a hiss emitted from its throat, saliva dripping from its mouth as it bared its fangs. It stood up like a human, its body covered in scales with a tail that was getting dangerously close to Y/N's neck.

Y/N was frozen in fear, unable to move or breathe, his heart beating out of his chest as the creature's tail lunged towards him, piercing his shoulder and causing his whole body to spasm in pain.

It felt like someone had ripped his shoulder apart, and the feeling of his bones cracking, his muscle tissue ripping, the nerves in his shoulder being severed. His flesh torn apart was excruciatingly painful. His voice was lost, and his breath hitched as he tried to scream out in pain.

The creature hissed once again, its tail still deep inside his shoulder, twisting around and moving about, causing more pain than Y/N could ever have imagined. But suddenly, his body began to go numb. Y/N couldn't move a single muscle; he lay there paralysed, his eyes wide in fear, tears streaming down his face as the creature got closer.

Y/N saw its claws extend; as it got closer, he could feel its breath on his face. Still, suddenly, it snapped its head in another direction, running off, leaving Y/N bleeding in silence.

He saw a dark shadow approach him, and the last thing he heard before his vision went blank was the sound of his own screams.

Please Request for CHAPTER ~ 3

[urgardenandmine]

cute little match 𓃦 - l. dunbar

summary: liam dunbar has met his match on the lacrosse field genre: fluff (what is like the opposite of fluff because this is like not that cute but y'know what i mean?) pairing: m!reader x liam dunbar word count: 1.8K

“alright grunts, today we are playing a quick scrimmage game with the varsity team of devenford prep because last night was a monstrosity. a total and utter, amazingly, piece of crap.” coach had announced, seeing all the students on the field clutching the shaft of their lacrosse stick. the famous fiery dunbar teen had groaned, rubbing his temple with his gloved hand. he glanced over to the leading group of teens who adorned green jerseys and white shorts. liam grumbled, seeing the new team of devenford students. he was still scared of the rumor and the reputation he left at his old school yet he couldn’t do much now. he was also a changed man, instead of keying cars, he could use his claws. 

one boy had caught the eye of liam. he was behind the new captain of the lacrosse team. he didn’t seem to be that much taller, almost the same height as liam himself or shorter. his hair was not that long nor too short, which was a common thing with the freshman at devenford, except those who didn’t give a fuck like how brett was. his [e/c] were almost another shade due to the sunlight hitting them just perfectly. he had a certain aura about him, something that pulled liam in yet he couldn’t tell what. it was almost as if he- 

“dunbar! earth to dunbar! i swear it’s like you just never listen to me…” coach finstock shouted, causing liam to snap out of his daydream as he turned his attention to the older man. coach had raised his arms above his head, staring at the gawking boy as he was tired of waiting for him to get into position. 

“s-sorry, coach,” liam had stuttered out, “right. where do you want me?” he asked, trying to smoothe over his already rocky start to the re-do of last nights mistakes. he couldn’t afford to make another one or else he and his team would have to run a couple laps. for him, it was no biggie, but to run in front of his old school and making his teammates run would be a shit start for the new lacrosse season.

“you’re on mid and facing us off. get a move on, dunbar. mccall said you were good so go prove him not wrong.” coach said, as he made his way off the field to stand next to the other coach of the other school. liam nodded, putting on his helmet as he trudged over to the center of the field. he had held his mouth guard in one hand, wanting to exchange at least a couple friendly introductions to the other player before he, hopingly, crushed them.

making his way towards the center, liam had stuck out his hand and smiled from under the plastic grate at the other player. it was the boy from before, who was now in his gear. he looked at liam’s hand, before meeting his gaze towards the brunette. liam chuckled softly, before gesturing towards the other, still trying to be polite.

“let’s have some fun, man.” liam chirped. the other boy had his lacrosse stick in his hand, while leaning his chin on the end of the shaft. he chuckled softly, sighing as he got closer and grabbed liam’s hand. when their hands met, liam was met with a small shock, causing him to jump back and retract his hand as quick as possible. the other boy smirked, winking at the young wolf before getting into position.

“lets.” he said, staring up at liam before putting in his mouth guard. liam looked down at him, seeing the boy teasingly wink at him another time. liam tittered, soon getting into position as well after following suit and placing his mouth guard in. he had grabbed his stick tightly, staring at the boy who had his eyes focused on the ball. liam smiled, thinking to himself…

“he’s not even looking at me. this is gonna be easy…”

w h e e !

the sound of the whistle had caused liam to snap out of his thoughts, and then in the following second…

he was on his back. 

“get up, dunbar!” a teammate had shouted. liam groaned, turning his head back further to see above him. looking upside down, the smaller boy was now halfway across the field with the ball in the net. liam grunted, rushing himself up as he was then darting halfway across the field. seeing the boy soon reach one of the defenders who were twice his size, liam cheered in his head as he had no way to get passed them. as he saw the boy reach the defenders, the boy then slipped passed them as if he was water rushing through two rocks. liam groaned, running faster and faster till…

“goal! one for devenford.” the coach of the other team had announced, as the ball had smacked into the net before anyone could even blink. the boy smirked, walking back to the center off the field as he brushed passed liam. as he got closer to the other boy, he winked again, this time his eyes flashing a small orange hue. liam had now stared at him, seeing the small flash. he shook his head, thinking he was only making things up. 

making his way back to the mid-field, liam looked down at the boy before getting into position. the boy’s eyes met with liam’s, winking another time as liam twisted his hands on the shaft of his stick. waiting for the whistle, liam began to devise a plan to throw the other off his guard. as he stared at the other boy, liam got somewhat lost in the other’s features. he took in the other boy’s eye color, his facial shape and the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was thinking. the brunette shook his head, shaking the thoughts out of his head.

“focus, liam! now is not the time to think about those things! maybe like…after?” 

w h e e ! 

as the chirp of the whistle filled his ear, liam found himself again on the ground, this time on his side. looking towards the distance of his team’s goal, he saw the other boy now rushing passed again. liam groaned, getting up and chasing after the boy. 

liam, right behind the boy’s tail, soon nudged himself into the other. the boy had faltered, tripping over his feet and leaning towards his right side. almost dropping the ball and feeling himself about to tumble, the boy had immediately done a quick flip to land at an angle, landing with his legs wide apart and his weight shifted onto his left foot. liam furrowed his brows, looking in awe. in the next second, the boy was off again, heading to the goal. 

seeing him dash off, liam was about to push him again when he saw the ball fly right passed the goalie. liam sighed, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath as he scratched his arm in slight frustration. he looked at the boy, seeing his other teammates now crowd him and pat him on the back and give him small words of congratulations. 

“maybe he was just lucky this time and we won’t have to do laps.” liam whispered to himself.

he was wrong. 

flopping onto the cooling grass, liam heaved slightly as he had finished up his tenth lap. this was usually a cake walk for him but it wasn’t easy considering he just got his ass beat by some random cute guy. closing his eyes to shield himself from the blinding sun, liam moaned as he wanted his water yet he wanted to just rot on top of the grass. seeing a shadow now appear in his vision, liam opened one eye and saw the one person he didn’t want to see above him holding a water bottle.

it was the boy who whooped his ass and made him run ten laps.

liam sat up, looking at the water bottle extended towards him. switching glances between the bottle and the boy, liam slouched over as he took the water bottle and began gulping it down. the boy giggled, sitting down beside him, tucking in his knees to his chest as liam ran a hand through his long brown hair. finishing up his last sip, the young wolf looked over to the boy and chuckled softly. liam examined the boy’s face. he was barely sweating, nor did he seem tired at all. in the moment they were taking in one another’s presence, the other boy had wiped a small water droplet from liam’s lips, smirking. 

“so, who knew wolves were so slow?” the other asked, causing liam’s ears to turn a red shade as he coughed. he covered his mouth and tried to not to cough on the other, looking away. trying to stifle his fit of dryness, he looked back at the [h/c] boy and shrugged it off, feigning a small laugh.

“wolf? what wolf? i don’t-”

“you’re liam dunbar, right?” he asked, waiting for a response from the other who took a small sip of water to soother his throat. the beta nodded, looking at the other boy who scooted closer.

“your reputation proceeds, man.” he said, nudging him softly. the blue eyed beta looked the other up and down, confused as he didn’t sense any other type of “wolf-ness” from the other.

“what are you?” liam asked, now feeling a bit more on edge as this wasn’t the first time someone supernatural had picked on him. the other boy huffed, his [l/c] lips shifting into a wide grin. he whispered close to the other’s ear.

“took a look with your eyes.” he teased, lightly biting dunbar’s earlobe, causing him to blush. making sure no one else was around, liam’s eyes had changed from their usual blue to their now bright gold. jumping back in awe, liam took in the sight before him.

the smaller boy was now shrouded in an outlined aura of a fox-like humanoid. the color of his aura was similar to his older packmate, kira, a bright orange. the aura though was not as fiery as the previous, possibly being that this guy hasn’t been in any crazy battles like he has. blinking hard and shaking his head, liam looked again and saw the same boy from before. 

“so you’re a-”

“yeah. and you’re the famous cutie liam dunbar.” the other replied. liam nodded, looking at his feet before turning quickly back to the other.

“cutie?” he inquired, blushing as the now revealed fox boy laughed.

“how about we make a deal, cutie. if we beat you tomorrow night, you have to take me out on a date. and if you guys win, then i’ll take you on a date.” he teased, biting his lower lip. liam chuckled, nodding as he stood up and helped up the other, pulling him closely by his waist. the other boy tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

“you’re on.” 

⋆｡°✩

been waiting to write this one for a while but i couldn't figure out who :p

most kitsunes in history are depicted as women but historically, some stories have been about old men but like...i don't wanna write that pairing TT

hope y'all enjoyed it! sorry for the like lack luster quality because it's like 2AM where i am

[inlovewithdob]

Pairing- Stiles Stilinski x reader

Warnings- none just cute fluff but reader has curly hair

Word count- 900+

Curls and Cuddles

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Friday night afternoon with a not so fortunate sky. Your idea to go on a beach date went back to just an idea. Which wasn’t the worst thing for Stiles since he hated unwanted oglers staring at your body. And honestly just prefers staying in bed cuddling while one of the many Star Wars movies played (but only the prequels). Paired with a big bowl of a sweet popcorn concoction, and a share sized bag of candy he bought you at a gas station on the way to his house. As "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...." it seemed as if his grip around your waist tightened if that was even possible. He was in pure bliss. Body sprawled out on top of yours. Face buried so deep between your breasts you questioned how he was even still breathing. But what he was most enjoying was- your hair. More specifically, your curls. 

 

He’s always been fascinated by them. Being the first thing he noticed about you when you were sat in front of him in Coach Finstocks class. He couldn’t bring himself to care about how the size of your mane blocked his view of the board (not that he was paying attention anyways). Until his daydreaming sesh was interrupted by a loud whistle right in his ear, causing him to lift up from his chair with an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek. 

 

“BILINSKI, did you even hear my question?” Coach asked in that same tone he always used on him.

 

His head shook enough to bring him back to reality and turned to look up at the teacher slowly. He flashed a sheepish smile ”no coach, could you repeat it?”

 

Coaches whistle blared the another ear death-ening pitch, erupting another yelp from Stiles “detention Saturday.” 

 

His lips parted to begin his moan and protesting but you 180’d around your chair to look behind you to face him holding back a giggle. To finally see the beautiful face of the owner of the beautiful hair, he had to blink almost as if he couldn’t believe that someone as perfect as you was even looking at him- let alone smiling at him. His jaw fell slack. Detention being the last thing on his mind. Coach stopped caring and made his way back to the whiteboard to try and yell the information into the scholars skulls somehow. You winked and turned to face back at the board, continuing your notes and doodles. God did that wink make his heart stop beating for a second, then somehow made it thump it faster.

 

Once the unnecessarily long lesson on whatever coach was roaring about finally finished. Stiles scrambled out of his seat and shoved his (empty) notebook into his backpack, not even bothering to close it. He caught you by the door before you left “h-hi I’m s-stiles,” his flustered stuttering making him impossibly more adorable.

 

You were thrilled he came over to talk to you ”hi, I’m y/n.”

 

You two stood there by the door sharing your interests, which were mostly all common-until coach shooed you both out to get to your guys next period. Right before you two were off to part ways, you handed him a folded little note torn straight from the corner of your notebook and connected a soft peck of your lips to his cheeks. You left from nervousness over your sudden action before seeing his reaction. Which he was happy about since the reaction from just a quick kiss to not even his lips erupted from him was entirely too embarrassing. After he took a second to breathe and calm down, he carefully unwrapped the note since it was now tied with his beloved Jeep “Roscoe” for the most important items he owned since you gave it to him. Inside was a little doodle of him knombing on the end of a pencil, which was surprisingly good. And your little signature and phone number on the back.

Hooked ever since.

His legs fought to tangle tighter with yours, needing to feel your warmth and presence as much as he could. One of his hands bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you stole from him behind your waist. With the other springing and twirling your coils. His voice raspy and muffled by your chest as he spoke, “Mmm, I love your hair.”

 

Making you giggle since he reminds you about it every day, “Oh, you do,huh?” Faux-shock

 

While he was too entranced, twirling and curling the springs that engulfed your head to notice your mocking tone, “Mmm, so much.”

 

Your fingers raked along his soft, unruly tufts, lightly scratching his scalp enough to tingle the nerves of his spine “I love your hair too.” 

 

He couldn’t help but lean into your touch, letting out a deep content sigh“yeah but mines boring and normal. Yours is just...mmm” with the dopiest smile on his face eyes peacefully closed inhaling your scent that he found himself clinging on to whenever it was left behind on any of his belongings.

 

Landing a gentle kiss against his pale expression creased forehead “that’s funny since you're the least boring and normal person I know.”

 

His head lifts up from where it’s buried deep between your breasts, just enough to meet your eyes with a slight smile and cock of the head “is that a good or bad thing?”

 

Your hands left his chaotic dark brown hair sticking up in every direction to cup his mole speckled flushed cheeks. “good thing. Definitely a good thing.”

 

He uses the grip on your (his) hoodie as leverage to lift his face up closer to yours

“I love you”

 

Your smile widening, leaning in to meet him halfway”I love you to my cute little nerd,” sealing it off with a gentle lock of the lips.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

SCOTT MCCALL

Escaping Theo's Pack (Scott McCall X Male!Reader)

Looking Out (Scott McCall X Male!Reader)

Senses (Scott McCall X Reader)

STILES STILINSKI

Change In Appearance (Stiles Stilinski X Sister!Reader) (Feat. Sheriff Stilinski.

DEREK HALE

A Boy And His Mother (Derek Hale X Fem!Reader)

Interuptions (Derek Hale X Reader)

COREY BRYANT

The Pack's Little Sister (Corey X Sister!Reader)

Resurrected (Corey X SIster!Reader)

LIAM DUNBAR

Watching Out (Liam Dunbar X Male!Reader)

Pickup Lines (Lian Dunbar X Fem!Reader)

THEO RAEKEN

Back Home (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Staying (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Gone (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

It's My Job (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Scarf (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Join The Pack (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Not The Only Banshee (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Hiding (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Keep You Safe (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Helpful Hand (Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

Blind Love (Theo Raeken X Blind!Male!Reader)

LYDIA MARTIN

German Transfer (Lydia Martin X Fem!Reader)

Position (Lydia Martin X Fem!Reader)

COACH FINSTOCK

New Teacher (Coach Finstock X Fem!Reader)

Overqualified (Coach Finstock X Fem!Reader)

One Smart Cookie (Coach Finstock X Teen!Reader)

Being Coach Finstock's Daughter And Being A Beast At Sports Would Include...

JORDAN PARRISH

Not Feeling Good (Jordan Parrish X Reader)

CHRIS ARGENT

Moving In (Chris Argent X Teen!Fem!Reader)

PETER HALE

Have You Ever Heard Of Knocking (Peter Hale X Male!Reader)

Under The Weather (Peter Hale X Male!Reader)

MULTIPLE

Protection (Scott McCall X Male!Reader X Isaac Lahey)

Photographs (Corey Bryant X Sister!Reader, Theo Raeken X Fem!Reader)

The Flu (Teen Wolf X BabyBrother!Hale!Reader)

[witchajfics]

The Witching Hour: A Teen Wolf Rewrite

Woooooo!! Chapter 2!! Yayyyy!! This is definitely not proofread, I powered through a migraine to write this so if it's shit my bad guys :P

Anyway, here we go!!

Season 1 Episode 1 (Part 2): Wolf Moon

“Jesus, what crawled up your ass and died?” Anni questioned leaning against the locker next to Scott’s. The boy jumped, slamming his head against the locker door and groaning.

“W-What are you talking about? And why are you being a little stalker?” Scott harshly asked, rubbing the side of his head that now sported a small bump. He took out his lacrosse gear from his locker and began to put on his uniform.

“You’ve been an asshole all day. You’ve barely talked to me or Stiles, you’re stomping around the school like you’ve got two left feet, and it’s like…you’re just not here today. You were like this before school this morning too, so don’t even try to blame it on a test or some shit,” Anni states, crossing her arms across her chest, “Also, for your information, I’m not being a little stalker. Before I came over here I called your name like 5 times and you didn’t answer. And, even if I was stalking you, it doesn’t count because I’m your sister sooooo…your argument is null and void.”

Before he could stop himself, Scott snorted at his sister’s antics and shook his head in amusement. Anni smiled at his reaction to her response, but still wouldn’t let up on him. Scott realized this and sighed, “I, uh, had a weird night.”

Anni raised an eyebrow, not understanding his meaning. “What do you mean by ‘a weird night’? Did you like…do something, y’know…?” Anni lowers her voice, “Freaky? With a girl?” Upon hearing his sister’s misunderstanding, Scott turned bright red and began rapidly shaking his head. Anni took this as the embarrassment of doing the act, and her eyes widened, “Holy shit, you did! Was it…was it with Allison?”

Scott stuttered, struggling to form a sentence, “N-No, it wasn’t with Allison. I mean, yes, it was with Allison, but I wasn’t with Allison, I was just with Allison. W-We didn’t do anything crazy, I just helped a dog that she accidentally hit with her car.” Anni blinked in surprise, “Oh. Well, that’s very gentlemanly of you. Most guys just take girls out on dates but you saved her from at least a few months of survivor’s guilt,” Anni teased, “But, is that seriously what’s got you all fucked up today? Are you seriously that whipped for her?”

Scott rolled his eyes at his sister, swatting her head, and mussing up her hair, “No, jackass. I-I think I was sleepwalking.”

“Huh? Since when do you sleepwalk?” Anni questioned, furrowing her brows in confusion.

“I don’t, that’s the thing! But, this morning I woke up in, like, some cave in the woods. Then I had some sort of blackout and woke up in our neighbor’s pool!” Scott exclaimed, panic in his eyes.

Anni was about to respond when Scott’s locker was slammed shut, barely missing Scott’s fingers. The two turn to see Jackson, angrily glaring at Scott.

“All right, little man. How ‘bout you tell me where you’re getting your juice,” Jackson said, looming down at Scott, seemingly ignoring Anni’s presence.

Scott, not knowing what Jackson is talking about and overwhelmed by his intimidating demeanor, looks at him blankly. “What?” he says, clearly rattled.

“Where. Are. You. Getting. Your. Juice?” Jackson repeats in a mockingly slow tone of voice, emphasizing each syllable as though Scott is stupid.

Scott blinks earnestly, still not understanding the question, “My mom does all the grocery shopping.” Anni facepalms at his response and a vein throbs on the side of Jackson’s face.

Jackson, thinking Scott is messing with him, is radiating with anger at this point, though he tries to keep his cool in front of Anni says, “Now, listen, McCall-you're gonna tell me exactly what it is and who you're buying it from, because there's no way in hell you're out there kicking ass on the field like that without some sort of chemical boost.”

Scott finally understands what Jackson's talking about as his eyes widen in realization, “Oh, you mean steroids!” Scott frowns as he considers Jackson’s argument, “Are you on steroids?”

Jackson loses his patience and his temper as he shoves Scott against the locker and pins him there, “What the hell is going on with you, McCall?!”

“Hey, let him go!” Anni exclaims, stepping forward and pushing against Jackson’s arms. He pointedly ignores her, glaring down at Scott.

Scott, who is already under a lot of stress due to his current situation, ends up answering Jackson's question honestly, “What's going on with me? You really wanna know? Well, so would I! Because I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear, and smell. I do things that should be impossible, I'm sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that I'm totally out of my freaking mind!”

Anni gapes at her brother, and Jackson just scoffs. Jackson, still under the mistaken belief that Scott is mocking him, sneers angrily at his teammate, “You think you're funny, don't you, McCall? I know you're hiding something. I'm gonna find out what it is. I don't care how long it takes.”

Jackson angrily pounds his fist against the locker right by Scott's right ear for emphasis before smacking him hard on the shoulder and walking away, leaving a very overwhelmed Scott behind.

“Dude, maybe you should go home. You’re clearly not…okay,” Anni states nervously, trying to meet Scott’s eyes.

“I can’t. Tryouts are about to happen. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll see you at home,” Scott says, walking towards the boy’s locker room.

“But-” Anni begins, only to be cut off by Scott waving his hand in her direction dismissively. She sighs, but turns the other way and begins to head home.

.. Anni flips through the pages of her biology textbook, occasionally highlighting important notes. She takes a sip from the glass of water on her desk, making a mental note to take it down later and not leave it in her room.

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring-

Anni glances over at her phone on the table and answers the call. “Hello?”

Some crashing is heard from the other end of the phone call, almost like someone fell onto a chair. “Ow, shit. Uh, Anni, it’s Stiles. Come over. Like right fucking now.”

“Stiles, I’m doing homework, can’t it wait? Or go tell Scott about it-”

“That’s the thing. It’s about Scott. You’ve noticed he’s been acting weird too, right?”

Anni pauses at his response, looking over at her unfinished biology paper. She stands up, sighs, and grabs her jacket, “I’m never finishing this paper, am I?” she grumbles, “I’m coming. I’ll be there in 10.” She hangs up and jogs down the stairs, hops on her bike, and begins the journey to the Stilinski home.

..

After practice, Stiles headed straight for his bedroom, where he began researching Werewolves on his computer. His online search starts with articles on Lycaon, said to be the first Werewolf, and moves on to articles about wolfsbane. Sometime later, Stiles moves on to reading an old, battered book titled The History of Lycanthropy, before going back to the computer and searching online for articles about silver as a weakness of Werewolves. Finally, Stiles, looking concerned about what he's read so far, prints out an old sketch of a Hunter aiming a crossbow at a transformed Werewolf. A knock on the door startles Stiles out of his stupor, and he goes to open the door. He finds Anni standing on the other side.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” he says, moving back to his computer. He continues to scroll through articles he’s found, not saying a word to Anni.

She narrows her eyes at him, “Uh huh. And are you gonna tell me why I’m here or just ignore me? ‘Cause if it’s the latter, I’m just gonna go back to my bio paper.”

Stiles blinks, remembering that Anni can’t read his mind, and motions her over. “Look at this.”

Anni moves to stand behind Stiles’ desk chair, her hand on the back of it. She leans forward, reading the words on his computer screen. “Okay, so? Is this you telling me that you’re a furry or something?”

Stiles scoffs, “What? No. What? Why would you think-you know what, never mind. This is about Scott.”

“Scott’s a furry?”

“No! No, Scott’s not a furry. There are no furries. Okay, just listen,” Stiles says exasperatedly, moving his hands around rapidly, “Remember how Scott said he heard a wolf howling the night he got bit?”

“Yeah, so what? You said there were no wolves in California,” Anni retorted.

“Yeah, and there haven’t been. For, like, sixty years. Until now. The police report for the body came back and they found fur on it. Wolf fur.”

Anni raises her eyebrows, looking back at the computer screen. “Are you saying that you think that Scott was bitten by…a werewolf? Stiles, how much Adderall have you taken today?”

“A lot, but that’s not the point,” he rushed out, “The point is that Scott is acting really fucking weird out of nowhere with no discernible explanation. I mean, he told you about his sleepwalking adventure, right? And his sudden talent at Lacrosse after years of being total ass at it? And all his new and improved senses?”

“Okay, but that doesn’t make him a werewolf, Stiles!” Anni exclaimed, “He practiced all summer for Lacrosse, so maybe that’s why he’s so good at it. And, maybe, he’s going through, like, an intense version of puberty that’s enhancing his senses,” Anni throws out.

“Intense puberty?” Stiles scoffs, “How does that make sense?”

“Oh, but a werewolf does?” Anni bites back and turns to the computer screen, “Plus, look at all this other stuff. Enhanced speed, strength, and stamina; Scott doesn’t have any of those. He has asthma, Stiles.”

“He made first line today, Anni,” he says, looking up at the girl. Her jaw drops in surprise as Stiles continues, “When was the last time you saw him use his inhaler, huh?”

Anni goes to respond but takes a moment to think. The things I saw when I was trying to sleep…a wolf kept showing up. Could it be…? She looks over at Stiles, who’s still waiting for her response. Should I tell him? Before she could decide, Stiles stood and walked over to his printer, picking up a picture of a werewolf fully transformed under a full moon. He walks back over to Anni, showing her the picture.

“The full moon’s tonight, NiNi,” he says, leaning down to look into her eyes.

Anni lifts her head to look up at Stiles, registering what he said. “You think…he’s gonna transform? Into this?” she motions to the picture. Her eyes fill with concern, and Stiles frowns. He places a hand under her chin and lifts her head to meet his eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, okay? We’ll figure it out. We just have to get Scott to drop the party tonight. Then, we’ll figure it out from there, okay?” he says comfortingly, as the raven-haired girl nods.

The two continue to look into each other’s eyes when a knock sounds on Stiles’ bedroom door. It startles them into realizing how close they’re standing, and both immediately jump back. Stiles moves to open his door, and Anni sits in his desk chair. Both of them are slightly red in the face. Stiles opens his door to find Scott standing there, checking the time on his phone. “Get in,” Stiles says, closing the door behind Scott as he walks in. Anni nervously plays with the ring on her middle finger as Scott looks down at her, confused.

“You gotta see this thing. I’ve been reading websites, books, all this information,” Stiles says as Scott sets his backpack on the floor by Stiles’ bed, his eyes widening as he sees all the paper covering the floor and desk.

“How much Adderall have you had today?” Scott asked, much to Stiles’ chagrin and Anni’s amusement.

“A lot, why does everyone keep asking me this,” Stiles shakes his head before changing the subject, “Doesn’t matter, okay? Just listen.”

Scott takes a seat on Stiles’ bed, shooting a confused look at his sister, who avoids his eyes. “Oh, is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?”

Stiles shakes his head, “No, they’re still questioning people. Even Derek Hale.”

“Oh, the guy in the woods that we saw the other day?”

“Yeah,” Anni said, “But, Stiles wasn’t there something else you wanted to say to Scott…?” Anni sent a look at Stiles, one that read to return to the subject.

“Yes, yes, Right, yes, okay. Remember the joke from the other day?” Stiles looks nervous about what he's going to say next, which only gets worse when Scott shakes his head, not knowing where Stiles is going with this.

“Y’know? Awooo?” Anni adds helpfully, making little claw movements with her hands. “Not a joke anymore. The wolf, the bite in the woods…I started doing all this reading,” Stiles stands to his feet, already sidetracked from his original point. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

“Should I?” Scott asks, looking concernedly between his best friend and sister.

“It's a signal, okay? When a wolf's alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em.”

“A whole pack of wolves?”

“No-werewolves,” Stiles finally gets to the point in his typically blunt fashion. Anni let out an exasperated sigh at his tactless approach, slamming her head down on his desk.

Scott, thinking this is just an elaborate joke on Stiles' part, starts to get irritated as he stands to his feet, “Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour.” Stiles and Anni exchanged panicked looks, the latter rising to her feet in alarm. Scott picks up his backpack and gets ready to leave, but Stiles grabs him by the arm with one hand and presses his other against his chest so that he's forced to stay where he is while he tries to convince Scott that he's telling the truth.

“I saw you on the field today, Scott, okay? What you did wasn't just amazing, all right? It was impossible,” Stiles said, attempting to push his friend back onto the bed.

Scott tries to shrug off Stiles’ accusation and once again tries to leave, “Yeah, so I made a good shot.”

“No, you made an incredible shot! I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes? Y'know, people can't just suddenly do that overnight. And there's the vision, and the senses, and don't even think I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore.”

“Okay! Dude, I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow.” At the sound of his statement, Stiles and Anni become panicked, both for Scott’s safety and that of the people around him.

“You can’t!” the two exclaim at the same time, “Tomorrow?! What? No! The full moon’s tonight. Don’t you get it?” Stiles blurts out, trying to explain how dire the situation was.

Scott gets so upset he starts to stutter as he argues with the two, “What are you two trying to do? I-I just made first line. I-I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you guys trying to ruin it?” He turns to face Anni, “And, you. Are you seriously going along with this? You know how important this is to me!”

“Scott, we’re not trying to ruin anything for you, we’re trying to help!” Anni says, looking up at her brother with a hurt expression at his accusation. She takes a deep breath before continuing in a softer tone of voice, “You're cursed, Scott. You know, and it's not just the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

“Bloodlust?” Scott asks dryly, unimpressed with this “intervention”.

“Yeah, your urge to kill,” Stiles jumps in to explain.

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles,” Scott says irritably.

Stiles frantically grabs The History of Lycanthropy book off of his desk and starts reading aloud from it in an attempt to convince Scott that he is becoming a werewolf, “You gotta hear this-- ‘The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.’ All right?”

“I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date,” Anni says frantically. Scott scoffs, attempting to grab his bag to leave.

Before he can grab it, Stiles stands to his feet and starts digging through Scott’s backpack, “I’m gonna call her right now,” he says, finding Scott’s phone. “What are you doing?!” Scott yelps.

“I’m canceling the date,” Stiles says, dialing Allison’s number.

“No, give it to me!”

“Stiles, maybe don’t-” Anni attempts to intervene, only to be ignored by both boys. Scott grabs the phone out of Stiles' hand, dropping it on the floor before shoving Stiles against the wall and raising his right fist, preparing to punch him in the face. However, after taking a deep breath, Scott lets go of Stiles and instead throws his desk chair across the room before coming back to himself. Stiles looks horrified, and Scott immediately begins to regret what he's just gone. He looks to Anni, whose eyes are wide, looking petrified of the boy. He looks at the floor with a shameful expression before muttering to Stiles under his breath.

“I’m sorry. I-I gotta go get ready for that party.” Scott picks up his phone and his backpack and heads for the door, giving Stiles and Anni one last apologetic look before he goes. “I’m sorry.”

Scott leaves, and Stiles lets out a long breath of relief. Anni shakes her head, running both her hands through her curls anxiously. She sees Stiles in peripheral, and turns to face him, concerned. “You okay?” she asks, moving forward to place a comforting hand on his arm while subtly scanning him for any bruises. He nods and pats his hand on top of hers before pushing himself off the wall.

Still clearly upset, Stiles roughly picks up his desk chair and sets it to rights, freezing in horror when he sees that the leather cover on the chair has four long slits on the back that look like claw marks. Anni’s eyes fill with worry after seeing the look on his face, “What? What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Stiles turns the chair around, showing Anni the claw marks on the back of the chair. Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her mouth in horror. She and Stiles exchange horrified looks.

“We gotta stop him.”

..

Shit. Shit. Shit!

After leaving the party, Scott runs straight home. Scott has just rushed upstairs to his bedroom, where he locks the door before sliding down it into a crouching position. Directly in front of him is his open bedroom window, which gives him a perfect look at the full moon in the sky. Groaning in pain, he stumbles into the attached bathroom and strips out of his jacket and t-shirt before climbing into the bathtub and turning on the shower so that hot water pours over him. This seems to give him some momentary relief until he suddenly grits his teeth in pain and anxiously rubs his right hand over his face to try to distract himself from it. He seems to get a headache from his extra-heightened senses and grips the sides of the bathtub. Suddenly, his fingers start to ache, and when he looks down at the palms of his water-swollen hands, he is horrified to see his fingernails growing into long, sharp claws. Frantically getting out of the shower, Scott looks in the mirror over the medicine cabinet and is even more overwhelmed to find his canine teeth growing into fangs and his irises glowing a bright gold color. Just then, a loud pounding knock is heard on his bedroom door. Scott runs back to his bedroom, where he presses his forehead and torso against the inside of the door.

“Go away!” Scott growls, body contorting in more pain. Another knock, this time more frantic, is heard before the visitors identify themselves.

“Scott? It’s me and Stiles,” Anni says, biting her lip, and exchanging nervous looks with said boy. Scott, realizing that it’s not his mother, unlocks his door but only allows Stiles and Anni to open it a few inches so that they can hear him but not see him. Scott continues to lean his forehead against the door as he struggles to control his breathing. “Let us in, Scott. We can help,” Anni pleads.

The thought of them getting closer to him causes him to panic, as he's afraid of what will happen. Instead, Scott, lisping slightly due to his fangs, begs the two to leave instead. “No! Listen, you gotta find Allison.”

“She’s fine, all right? I saw her get a ride from the party. She’s- she’s totally fine, all right?” Stiles rushes out, pushing against the door. It’s no use, Scott’s strength is easily 10x more than Stiles’.

“No, I think I know who it is-” Scott continues, frustrated.

Stiles is too overwhelmed by concern regarding Scott's current situation to pay attention to his protests and instead cuts him off with an exasperated tone of voice, “Dude, just let us in! We can try–”

Scott, in an effort to get Stiles to understand what he's trying to say, interrupts him as well, “--It's Derek. Derek Hale is the werewolf! He's the one that bit me. He's the one that killed the girl in the woods.”

Stiles and Anni’s eyes widen in horror, both recalling who picked up Allison from the party. “Scott…Derek’s the one who drove Allison home from the party…” Anni said, attempting to think of some plan to help both Scott and Allison. Scott processes this for a short moment before he quickly shuts the door and locks it again. Out in the hallway, Stiles rattles the doorknob, and when he can't open the door, Anni starts to pound on it with her fist in an attempt to be let back in. “SCOTT!” the two yell, trying to get him to see reason.

Scott has just opened the window to his second-floor bedroom and jumped out. He lands on his feet on the ground below in a three-point stance, splashing in the rain puddle left from the previous night. Scott then completes his transformation into his Werewolf form, complete with a ridged brow, pointed ears, mutton chops, gold glowing eyes, claws, and fangs. Saliva drips from the tips of his elongated canine teeth as he looks up at the full moon and roars. From the hallway in the McCall house, Stiles and Anni hear it, and immediately run down the stairs and into Stiles’ Jeep, driving after Scott.

..

The duo arrives at the Argent house, where the two immediately jump out of the Jeep and run to the front door. Stiles frantically rings the doorbell, clenching his hands into fists and tapping his foot nervously. “Come on, come on…”

Anni reaches out to grasp his right hand and gently rubs her thumb over it to calm the boy down. Stiles glances down at their entwined hands and squeezes her hand gently. Victoria Argent comes to the door, opening it to find the two overwhelmed teenagers.

Anni clears her throat and begins, “Hi, Mrs. Argent. Um- You have no idea who we are. We’re, uh, friends of your daughter’s. And, uh-” she stumbles over her words, looking to Stiles for assistance.

“Uhhh, look, this is gonna sound kind of crazy, um…really crazy, actually. You know what? Crazy doesn’t even describe-” Victoria looks at Stiles as though he’s stupid before turning and shouting up the staircase.

“Allison! It’s for you!” she yells. Alison walks onto the balcony at the top of the staircase, looking perfectly fine, though she is no longer wearing her black blazer. Stiles and Anni look flabbergasted by the sight of her, and Allison looks confused as to why the two look so panicked.

..

After the brief and extremely awkward confrontation with the Argents, the two teenagers retreat into Stiles’ Jeep. He pulls out of the driveway, and down the road, pulling over once they get far enough away from the house to take a breather. Anni stares straight ahead, trying to process the entire evening. Stiles takes a deep breath, cleansing his system…and then slams his head straight down on the wheel, causing an extremely loud and long beep. It startles Anni out of her stupor, who looks to her left at the exhausted boy next to her. Unexpectedly, she begins to laugh. Stiles lifts his head from the steering wheel to give her a strange look, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Oh, great, you’re delirious,” Stiles says, exasperated.

“I’m not,” Anni gets out in between her laughter, “It’s just…if I don’t laugh, I might burst into tears.” Stiles looked concerned for a moment, but found that he related to this sentiment, and nodded his head. After Anni finished laughing, she smiled at the boy sitting next to her.

“Y’know, the two of us make a pretty good team, huh?” she says, nudging Stiles with her elbow. He looks over at her and snorts.

“How does that make sense? We failed. Scott’s still out there doing…whatever the fuck it is that werewolves do on a full moon. Probably chewing on some poor 18-year-old gas station employee.”

“Yeah, butttt…” Anni says, “It could’ve been worse?” she sheepishly offers, shrugging her shoulders.

The two make eye contact, frowning for a moment. Then, they bust out in laughter, looking out at the road ahead of them. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right,” Stiles says, shifting the car into drive. The two sit in comfortable silence as Stiles drives Anni home, occasionally sneaking glances at each other while the other isn’t looking.

..

Scott is walking along the side of the road, still wearing only his jeans from the night before and cradling his now-healed left forearm with his right arm, when Stiles' Jeep pulls up next to him to pick him up. Scott gets into the backseat before putting on Stiles' jacket.

“You look like a bum,” Anni adds kindly from the passenger seat. Stiles snorts at this, nodding in agreement. Scott sighs, and leans back against the car seat, shutting his eyes.

“You know what actually worries me the most?” Scott asks. The teens in the front of the car narrow their eyes at him through the rearview mirror.

“If you say, Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the head,” Stiles said, Anni, nodding vigorously at his statement, already forming a fist with her right hand.

“She probably hates me now,” Scott whines, sliding lower in the seat.

“Ugh. I doubt that. But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could just tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a frickin' werewolf,” Stiles says, looking behind at Scott, who has just shot him a look and begins to backpedal from that statement. “Okay, bad idea. Hey, we'll get through this. Come on, if I have to, I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice.” Scott gives him another look, only this time, it’s more confused than annoyed.

“I’ll order the chains,” Anni says fake seriously, whipping out her phone.

“I had a boa once, I could do it,” Stiles adds reassuringly.

..

Andddddd, that’s all folks! I’ll see you for episode 2!

[softspiderling]

preview - people you know | m.s.s.

pairing: werewolf!reader x stiles stilinski

As the rest of the class filed in, you flipped your book open, not paying any attention to the class until the teacher, Coach Finstock apparently, took to the front. He was interrupted however, before he could even open the mouth as the classroom door opened yet again. You turned back to your back, tuning out the conversation, the smell of peanut butter and honey suddenly filling your nostrils. Scrunching your nose, you leaned back in your seat when someone dropped in to the empty chair in front of you, somewhat clumsily. He stretched his arms, rather obnoxiously, if you might add and it was obvious that the smell of peanut butter and honey was wafting over to your nose from him. He bounced his leg and you narrowed your eyes at his back, growing more and more annoyed. He was unable to sit still, always fidgeting. Almost like-

“Stiles.”

Author's Note: don't talk to me, I'm back in my teen wolf era

tagging @stilinskiderek just to be obnoxious

[eepwtf]

would you be open to making a bot or writing something about a reader/user who is related to Coach Finstock? User/Reader x Stiles bc I think it'd be hilarious since Stiles and Coach bicker all the time

oh my gosh, yes!! i love this idea. i can already picture the dynamic—it’d be hilarious and chaotic in the best way. i’m definitely open to making a bot or writing something for this. thank you so much for the suggestion!

he’d absolutely want to impress you, but every time he tries, coach somehow manages to walk in at the worst possible moment. stiles dragging scott into his plans to win you over—badly: “do i get them flowers? or is that too cliché? what if i write a poem?!” scott: “you don’t know how to write poetry.”

[jensen-frackles]

I just got to season 3 of Teen Wolf so I started looking for fics and there are like barely any for Coach Finstock x Reader. I think I might have to change that…