#mr. stilinski

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Mr Hale and Mr Stilinski Are NOT Dating

There have been whispers around the school that Mr Stilinski and Mr Hale are dating. They decide to set the record straight.

They’ve heard the whispers circulating the school, a buzz of chatter filling the school halls like a swarm of bees.

Mr Hale – the English teacher – and Mr Stilinski – the history teacher and assistant coach for the lacrosse team – are dating.

They weren’t quite sure when it started, but whispers of their alleged relationship had spread throughout the school. Snippets of gossip and rumours would trail back to them.

“Did you see the way Mr Hale looked at Mr Stilinski today?”

“I’ve never seen Mr Hale smile, but Mr Stilinski makes him smile.”

“They’d make such a cute couple.”

“I saw Mr Stilinski in Mr Hale’s office the other day.”

“Mr Hale helped Mr Stilinski put away the sports gear after practice yesterday, and they were in the equipment room for quite some time.”

“Mr Hale and Mr Stilinski always spend their lunch breaks together in their classrooms.”

For the most part, they were amusing, harmless gossip and stories made up by kids who had watched a few too many romance movies, but it was starting to get out of hand. So Stiles and Derek decided to address the rumours.

They called all their students together and gathered in one of the larger classrooms. Students crammed in where they could, sitting in chairs or on the floor, a few perching themselves on the cabinets that lined the far wall. The room was filled with a quiet buzz of chatter, a mixture of confusion, concern, and excitement.

Derek stood in front of his desk. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leant back against the edge of the desk. Stiles stood beside him, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.

“Alright,” Derek said gruffly.

The room fell silent.

“We’re heard quite a lot of talk around the school about whether or not Mr Stilinski and I are dating,” Derek started.

The students started cheering. Some let out excited gasps and a few students shouted, “I knew it!”

Derek drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He waited for them to settle before continuing, “We’ve decided to clear this up, once and for all. Mr Stilinski and I are not dating.”

The room filled with shocked gasps, hushed whispers and a one student who was brave enough to shout, “Yet!”

Stiles ducked his head, hiding his smirk as he struggled to smother his laughter.

Derek waited for the room to fall quiet, his stern stare hushing the room.

“Mr Stilinski and I are not dating,” he reiterated. Pausing for a moment – waiting to see if the students would object again – before adding, “We’re married.”

The room burst into a cacophony of noise: cheers, screams, applause. You could have sworn they were celebrating winning the nationals, not finding out their teachers were married.

Stiles couldn’t hold it in any more, he burst out laughing, turning away from his students so that they couldn’t see how bright red his face was.

Derek glanced over at him, his harsh features softening as he smiled lovingly at Stiles and let out a quiet chuckle.

Stiles drew in a dep breath, gathering himself as he raised his voice above the noise to say, “And nothing happened in the equipment room.”

The members of the lacrosse team and a few other students who had heard that rumour started laughing.

[AO3]

[bajablastlover1]

my favorite genre of men is yearning men

[shipping-world1994]

Watching Mr & Mrs Smith again I can so far think of only four ships that would be having aggressive sex after a knock down drag out fire fight 😂: PunishDevil, Petopher, Sterek, and RumTorres

[acciotardis92]

Had a thought about a teen wolf x percy jackson crossover. First, cant decide who Stiles other parent would be, but Im leaning Athena or Hecate.

But the big brain bunnies are yelling about Finstock being Mr. D, and Greenburg is a satyr. The possibilites are endless and hilarious.

[sototallynormaliswear]

the experiment from 2x05 makes me SO MAD for no reason but like. that's OBJECTIVELY an awful experiment

you could fuck up on EVERY STAGE and then switch and still get a good grade because of everyone who had that table before you

alternatively you could do the experiment perfectly but because you're moving stations the whole time, you end up with something garbage because of someone else

like. I know the end of the scene with Scott and Stiles' fucked up experiment is meant to be an indication of them being so preoccupied with keeping everyone safe and alive that their school life suffers but like. NEITHER OF THEM WERE THERE THEY WERENT EVEN PARTNERS THE WHOLE TIME WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY FAILED THE EXPERIMENT THERES ABSOLUTELY NO WAY TO GAUGE IF THEY WERE THE ONES TO FUCJ UP

for an experiment to be good you need to have ONE VARIABLE while everything else is the same. but for EVERY turn, EVERY partner changes EVERY table. why

[envythemouse]

My main fandoms and the characters I obsess over:

[teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions]

Stiles: I miss Derek. Scott: You miss Derek when he gets up to sharpen his pencil. Stiles: Yeah, because the pencil sharpener is all the way over there.

[princessofdaydreaming]

I was brought back to my sterek obssesion, for a reason i can´t remember but I KNOW it has to do with the movie (ugh)

Usually i been searching here, but last night i went and decided to see what could i found on twitter. Big mistake, obs

Tw is my number one social media, so i know how toxic it can be. But i was sorprised to see that the first 50 tweets were calling us sterek shippers "worst than the devil" and the pword

And look, I KNOW sterek is everything but a perfectly umproblematic shipp, but going as far as to said that? It kind of pissed me off man

Fight all you want with the toxic shipper all you want, but leave the rest of us alone. And ignoring all the signs that there was SOMETHING between the two of them just bc you dont like the age diference (and yes, i admit the age gap IS noteable when stiles is still a teenager and Derek´s on his twenty) is stupid, honestly.

Anyway, i just wanted to rant about it (ignore all my spelling mistakes. it´s being a while since i last wrote such a long text in english)

[groveofsouls]

tag dump seven ft. general charas part two !!

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Coach: Harris! Why do you have one of my players in detention when he should be at lacrosse training?

Harris: Mr Stilinski earned himself detention for disrespectful and disruptive behaviour.

Coach: Stilinski, explain yourself.

Stiles: Well, Coach, Mr Harris thought I was too slow in answering a question so he pointed a ruler at me and said “At the end of this ruler is an idiot”. I asked him, “Which end?”

Coach: *laughing* Go get changed and get your butt on the field, Stilinski.

[putalabelonit]

Teen Wolf fanfiction recs:

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski [Part 7]

"The Education of Mr. Stilinksi" (E) by zoemathemata | 5,746 | Derek Hale is going to hell courtesy of Stiles Stilinkski and his oral fixation.

"His Favorite Nephew" (M) by Anonanonanonana | 1,348 | Peter Hale was never good at following directions if he saw a better way. But he always liked Stiles' plans. That's what made him his favorite.

"Wake Up Dead" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | 12,453 | Stiles becomes a vampire at the very beginning of his relationship with Derek. Suddenly he's immortal, and everything changes.

"Red" (M) by ZainClaw | 4,371 | “If you try anything,” the alpha warns him, “I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.” Stiles laughs drily, tilting his head to the side. “Likewise.”

"I Will Wait At Your Door" (T) by entanglednow | 2,142 | It turns out that getting between werewolves and hunters is not a good look for him.

"Returning the Favor" (T) by aurevell | 5,164 | Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

"where we both could live" (M) by aurevell | 16,865 | Derek’s having a hard time falling asleep in his noisy new apartment. His next-door neighbor, who always seems to be talking or singing, is surprisingly helpful with that problem.

"The Bite" (M) by LeeHan | 6,601 | The first time Stiles was offered the bite, he said no, but the universe only gave him the courtesy of asking so many times. When the inevitability of the bite catches up with him, Stiles has to face his new nature. Luckily, he has Derek by his side every step of the way.

"Gonna Write a Classic" (M) by jezziejay | 6,607 | The sexploits that Stiles writes about aren’t autobiographical. There’s never been anything overtly salacious about his own sexlife, nothing that was ever going to be screenplayed for a porno, but he still has a very creative imagination to work with. Usually. Tragically, and frighteningly, his imagination has gone rogue on him. It’s broken, flatlined, missing.

"In Desperate Times" (M) by Nokomis | 3,454 | Stiles gets magic wish-granting powers, but only when he's in danger. He begins to teleport to Derek in increasingly awkward moments.

"In From The Cold" (T) by alocalband | 3,256 | Stiles stands on the doorstep of the Hale house, bouncing on the balls of his feet in an attempt to stay warm in the freezing night air, and tries to tell himself that this isn’t a bad idea. And it isn’t. It’s an absolutely horrible one.

"Begin Again" (T) by alocalband | 2,852 | Derek loses control of his full shift. This honestly wouldn't be an issue if Stiles hadn't shown up and made it one.

"Yes is a World" (M) by jezziejay | 10,207 | When the nemeton casts a protection spell over Beacon Hills, Stiles can finally go to college. Derek thinks this might be a good thing.

"Long Time No See" (T) by BarlowGirl | 3,294 | “Hi,” Stiles says when Derek opens the door. Stiles who Derek hasn’t seen in almost seven years. Stiles who his own father hasn’t seen in six years.

"but we were something (don't you think so?)" (E) by Melpomene | 9,127 | "This was a mistake," Derek declares. "Here," he tosses the car keys to Stiles, "go home. I'll take the acorn and plant it." "Deaton said it had to be us!" Stiles protests. "That's why I'm here, because -" Derek rolls his eyes. "Deaton told you that so you'd come, because he doesn't trust me." He pushes past Stiles. Once he has the stupid acorn and his phone, he'll just run to the coordinates and be done with it. Maybe after that he'll just keep running.

"Wedding Jitters" (G) by ladyblahblah | 318 | He wouldn't be Stiles if he weren't needlessly freaking out.

"Shifted" (T) by Wolfspurr | 25,074 | Of all the stupid things he’s ever done, Stiles is pretty sure this one takes the record, but it’s like a reflex that he just can’t stop. As soon as he sees the witch turn to face Derek, hand raised in Derek’s direction, he just jumps.

"inventing monsters" (T) by creationmyth | 3,840 | Stiles scoffs, disbelieving and a little mean. “Yeah? What good things do you have, Derek?” He swallows, keeping the word trapped behind his teeth because if it slips through he will not be able to catch it, he curls the chain around its neck and binds it to the tree out front to bark and bark with no one to hear. He just looks at Stiles, and Stiles looks back at him, and Derek thinks it loud enough that Stiles blinks.

"maybe we got lost in translation" (E) by creationmyth | 8,464 | The night’s spent branding each other’s names within the softest parts of their skin. Stiles has Derek’s name on his inner thighs, the base of his spine, spelled out in purple and blue along the space where his abdomen flexes under every light touch, down the tendon in his neck, above his heart. Derek has Stiles’ name in the fabric of his t-shirt, tucked within the band of his boxers, blended within the cotton and polyester, he’s got it on the back of his tongue and flashing behind his eyelids when he blinks. Stiles feels Derek in his bone marrow and knows that the remnants of himself are circling the drain as Derek runs the shower.

"ash is our purest form" (M) by creationmyth | 15,350 | In all honesty, Derek isn’t sure he wants to meet Stiles. From the word of fellow Berkeley attendees, it’s either a blessing or a curse to be acquainted with him. Stiles is both ends of two extremes, offering no middle ground and taking no prisoners. He heard from his dormmate Jackson that the guy is a total train wreck. He put it like this: All you need to know about Stilinski are the three S’s: spastic, stoner, slut.

"mosaic" (M) by creationmyth | 6,670 | “I’m starving,” he croaks, words whispered and cracking at the edges. “You were gone for a long time,” Derek replies in what sounds like agreement. Like he knows that Stiles is hungry. It feels like everyone knows.

"Dude, Werewolves" (E) by mysecretashes | 29,623 | Stiles gets partnered with Cora for a history project, and they become bros. Also, he kind of falls in love with her older brother, Derek.

"with the darkness fed" (NR) by Rena | 2,835 | It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

"You Fit Me Better" (G) by Rena | 5,210 | Five times Stiles and Derek ended up wearing each others clothes on accident, and one time it's deliberate.

"The Difficult Kind" 🔒 (E) by whiskey_in_tea | 73,676 | Stiles is also trying to work on leaving shit alone, sometimes, but he can’t help himself when it occurs to him: they should take a road trip. They’ll have a bro bonding experience. Stiles can work out his weird Derek-related pseudo-crush issues once and for all, get trapped in a car with the dude and his farts and realize that all of the perfect abs and thick eyebrows and secret bleeding hearts in the world aren’t enough to make up for Derek’s particular brand of crazy.

"Bruised Like Violets" (E) by Melpomene | 236,381 | Stiles stares at the ceiling, completely flabbergasted. Derek Hale wants him. For real. This isn’t another Lydia situation, where he needs to pine and slowly try to work his way in from the edges of someone’s life. Derek likes him already. Derek is nice to him. Derek answers his questions and his texts and buys him magical things.

"Sacred Oasis" (E) by Melpomene | 4,643 | "I don't have a bathtub," Derek says, and oh now Stiles gets it. He gets all of it, actually. If he were a simpler person, he would demand that Derek admit that he's here because of safety and trust and a bunch of other girly emotions. Maybe Stiles would saucily ask "what's in it for me" and play coy.

"The Moon Gave Me Permission" (E) by Melpomene | 57,572 | “I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.” This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real: the Hale Family Fire and the Suicide of Katherine Argent.

"Desperately trying to figure out why the kamikaze pilots wore helmets" (M) by DaintyBoots | 1,548 | Brant was an expert at the swing, see, you had to time it just right, no hesitation. Wouldn’t want the damned creature to start healing half way through. So it had to be clean, quick. But this time, this time he supposed it was different. For one thing, it wasn’t some defecting rogue omega they caught running rampant around the forest. This one took timing, surveillance, careful planning. Alphas aren’t known to be easy to kill.

"Just Once" (T) by isthatbloodonhisshirt | 1,388 | “Did you literally just imply that while you were living in New York, you spent your weekends as a stripper?” “No,” Derek said. “No you didn’t imply it, or no you didn’t spend your weekends as a stripper?” Stiles asked. “You need to clarify here, because that wasn’t at all clear, and there is an important distinction because inquiring minds need to know. And by inquiring minds, I mean me, my mind, I need to know.”

"Low-Grade Mystical Shenanigans" (M) by wildhoneypie | 3,543 | Stiles is flushed and his shoulders are broad and he’s out of breath and he’s got that blood-and-spice rack smell of magic all over him, and over it all, there’s the smell of sex, like Stiles had been rolling around with someone just minutes ago and had run directly out of bed to the woods to do blood magic for his werewolf friends. The newness of Stiles’s body and his smells makes Derek’s brain buzz in a kind of electric stupor. He looks good.

"we do not dare to hope" (M) by xylodemon | 1,124 | Stiles helped open this door. All he can do now is wait to see what comes through it.

"i can't trust anyone or anything these days" 🔒(E) by wolfinglet | 700 | Stiles has words in his mouth. He puts them on Derek's skin. He's not the only one.

"Parked" (E) by xylodemon | 1,067 | The back of the jeep isn't really big enough for this kind of thing.

"hold my heart (it's beating for you anyway)" (M) by xylodemon | 1,667 | His name is Stiles, and it's nothing like Derek expected.

"Disposition" (E) by Tulikettu | 56,104 | Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch. So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it? Derek needs a partner for his rut. What a coincidence.

"Waxing" (E) by Tulikettu | 41,237 | The Hale land in Beacon Hills is being contended. Derek needs to prove he's not going anywhere. And the best way to do that, according to Deaton, is to have an heir. But they don't just grow on trees.

"The Great Grindr Incident" (E) by ColetheWolf & "The Great Grindr Follow Up" (T) by luciferswearingmetoprom | 2,347 | It's late at night & Stiles wants to find somebody on Grindr to jerk off with. Unbeknownst to him, Stiles accidentally finds himself sexting with Derek.

"Hallow's Warmth" 🔒 (M) by raisesomehale | 6,823 | Derek and Cora own the little coffee shop downtown, Stiles is the regular and talkative client that Derek may or may not be infatuated with, and the cold weather is extremely inconvenient considering it dusts Stiles' cheeks with a rosy shade of red and causes his breath to frost over in white puffs whenever he laughs.

"All I Want For Christmas, Is You" (E) by raisesomehale | 6,513 | Stiles and Derek have managed to keep up a reasonably active text-ship for the last few years (heavily due to Stiles’ undying persistence on the matter) but Derek’s recent inclination to jump around between continents paired with Stiles’ grueling school schedule has resulted in them not having been in the same room since Stiles left for Brown the summer after he graduated. The sight of him is like whiplash.

"summer tang" (M) by raisesomehale | 12,686 | It shouldn't come as a surprise to find Stiles now grown, it's been seven years after all, but it does come as a surprise to find Stiles has grown into... This. Toned and pretty thing.

"7 Minutes In Heaven" (T) by raisesomehale | 979 | “This is stupid,” Derek grumbles in lieu of a response, trying to point his body in a way that’ll keep it from brushing against Stiles' lithe front. He doesn’t succeed in the slightest. Stiles lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Our fellow party goers don’t seem to think so."

"Play It Cool" (T) by raisesomehale | 639 | “Ok, this is probably going to sound pathetic - no, it’s definitely gonna sound pathetic, but…” he nibbles on his bottom lip and leans forward more, like he’s about to tell Derek a secret. As he does, Derek gets a small whiff of clean sweat and faded laundry detergent. “I’m trying to convince my friends I’m a sex god, would you mind writing a fake number on this napkin for me real quick?”

"reGuardless" (M) by raisesomehale | 3,474 | The president had been to the point when he explained to Derek the rules of the job. Stiles was in the room while these rules were recited. The list went on and on. As did the games of chicken Stiles initiated to test Derek with these rules.

"Thrill (like white-hot wire)" (M) by raisesomehale | 4,291 | Stiles made the decision that Derek was his new best friend (and that he'll one day marry him) the day he shared his dinosaur chicken nuggets with him.

"the poets are right" (E) by endversed | 204,444 | “You need to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.” Derek pauses a moment, his nostrils flaring just a second before his eyes flash burning red, his entire face screwing up in this expression of pure disgust that sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine. “Christ, and you’re a human? A human omega? What kind of fucking moron breaks into a werewolves’ house when they’re just a weak fucking human?”

"Oblivion for Two" (E) by publicdecency | 210,279 | “I’ll pay you to stop going around with other werewolves.” Stiles pushes Derek’s hand off of him, and Derek lets him. Stiles sits up. Derek sits up. They stare at one another. Stiles tries to laser through right to his dumb idiot fucking brain. “What did you just say?”

"i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]" (G) by crossroadswrite | 2,304 | Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

"That's Why He Lets Him In" (E) by alisvolatpropiis | 12,446 | Some days he thinks he hears it when Stiles is miles and miles away, well beyond range for even his werewolf hearing. He thinks it might mean he’s finally going crazy after so many years of solitude, but that doesn’t stop him from liking it, even though he’d never admit it to anyone, if he had anyone to admit things to.

"breathe you in" (E) by forpony | 4,694 | How Stiles and Derek become weed buddies.

"All Taken Care Of" 🔒 (T) by elisera | 640 | “Don’t worry about it, okay? That was the first thing I got rid of once I had the pattern down.” “You what?”

"Recover, Reclaim, Retain" 🔒 (T) by elisera | 838 | Derek stumbles through the camp half-blind, head feeling like cotton and knees trembling, the spell on him making sure he can’t fight the warlock leading him by a chain and he can’t--, can’t even fucking smell--. “No, no, no!” a voice suddenly says next to Derek and there is a hand fisting in Derek’s shirt, jerking him to a stop. “This one’s mine.”

"Your Burning Sun" 🔒 (E) by elisera | 2,904 | “We gotta stop meeting like this,” Stiles says, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and tipping his hips up and forward until they meet Derek’s. A pleased sound escapes Derek; they’re both already half-hard, the scent of Stiles’ arousal filling the night air, thankfully drowning out the smell of the dumpster next to them.

"The Last Chills of Winter" (E) by LeeHan | 42,525 | “He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense. “Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk. “What? No,” Derek growled. “Was he hot?” “No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

"There'll Be A Future Down The Road" (T) by clotpolesonly | 6,885 | “Derek,” Stiles croaks. “What are you doing here?” The scowl deepens. “You break into my house after four years of nothing, collapse on my floor covered in blood, and then have the gall to ask me what I’m doing here?”

"all things together and under the earth" (E) by ahab2692 | 120,946 | In which a ragtag gang of teenagers somehow becomes Derek's pack. And in which pack somehow becomes synonymous with family. There's murder and mayhem, and a briefcase full of money, and the rebuilding of a home, and bruises and love bites, and tangled webs of private lives. And somewhere in the middle of all of this, Derek falls in love with the sheriff's son.

"Through Myself and Back Again" (G) by Green | 2,808 | If Derek hadn't reached out, Stiles probably would have burned and burned until nothing was left.

"The Light in the Woods" (M) by DiscontentedWinter | 36,507 | To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

"Must Be Bunnies" 🔒 (T) by Jerakeen | 780 | “You will see the real animal within!” the hunter had crowed, and Stiles had pictured a bloodbath. Not… this.

"Inhuman History" (E) by Amazonia_8 | 36,776 | Stiles doesn't remember much about what happened the night he was to be introduced to the mysterious Hale family. He knows his mother is dead, but nobody can tell him why. He thinks it might have something to do with the things that happen to him, or that he can make happen, even though he's never been able to control it.

"Happy Birthday Mr. Hale" (E) by mikkimouse | 33,349 | He expected some level of chaos to greet him. He did not expect to see Stiles standing shirtless in the living room, wearing a sparkly tiara on his head and a pink tutu over his jeans, holding Mia's tea set in one hand and a plastic sword in the other.

"Come Hell or High Water" 🔒 (E) by blacktofade | 14,140 | As an alpha, Derek goes into heat, which means he has to deal with endless amounts of saliva at any given point.

"love always wakes a dragon and suddenly, flames everywhere" (E) by decideophobia | 7,124 | “Anyway,” Stiles is saying, as Derek tunes in again. “Everyone’s busy and I don’t wanna spend Valentine’s being pitied by my dad, and you have your Forever Alone thing going on, so I figured we might spend Valentine’s being alone together.”

"when you walk your body through mine" (E) by decideophobia | 1,146 | Derek’s hands are on him, following patterns across his skin only he knows. It’s maddening, touch alternating between feathery-light and firm. Stiles is so turned on he can’t think straight, can’t help the tiny, hungry, choked off noises that tumble out of his mouth.

"The Rest of Your Life" (T) by paradis | 4,168 | “Seemed like a buttercream guy,” Stiles says innocently, and grabs two forks and pours two huge glasses of milk. They eat in silence and when Stiles finishes his mouth is filled with the too-sweet taste of peanut butter icing and chocolate cake, and he’s full, but he feels good, too. He stares at Derek, who’s licking his lips after his last bite of cake. “I think I’m probably not straight,” he says suddenly. And Derek says, “I ripped down the whole top floor of the house this morning thinking about Laura.”

"Of Witches and Werewolves" (E) by alexenglish | 8,713 | “I need you to have sex with Derek Hale like yesterday,” Lydia says, slamming her bag down on the table with more force than strictly necessary, mouth a tight line of displeasure. Stiles chokes on his boxed apple juice, sputtering, limbs flailing. “Say it louder,” Stiles hisses, leaning forward so they can talk in low tones. “I don’t think they heard you in the back.”

"A Hollow Space" (E) by velveteenshadowboxer | 4,212 | That last week of summer in the year before his mother succumbs to her illness and his father turns to the drink, Stiles finally graduates from squashing insects and sticking cats’ heads on poles and directs his attention to more challenging prey.

"Give you that thing you can't even imagine" 🔒 (E) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11,014 | Mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

"Happily Ever After" (G) by all-or-nothing-baby | 1,733 | He'd recognise that voice anywhere; would know it in a sea of a thousand others. He slowly turned on his heel to find its owner sitting in Derek's favourite tree.

"Ruined" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | 8,442 | Derek notices how the darkness inside Stiles is affecting him and decides to do something about it.

"Just hold me." (E) by bonerkiller | 1,286 | "Just hold me, you big lug," Stiles demands and Derek's arms tighten their hold around him, a pleased hum leaving him as he presses himself against Derek. Derek presses his face into Stiles's hair and a rumble rolls through his chest like something similar to a cat's purr. Stiles smiles against his husband's skin.

"Let It Burn Fast" 🔒 (E) by RurouniHime | 32,562 | “So.” Stiles rubs his thighs, snaps his fingers again restlessly and looks around. “Thoughts? Comments? Revisions you’d like to submit for consideration?” Derek weighs it. “Stiles, are you asking me to have sex with you for the good of the pack?”

"You would kill for this, just a little bit, you would" (NR) by alice9 | 38,837 | The Hales didn’t like him. He didn’t like them either. And for fifteen years he made it a point to have as little interaction with them as possible. It comes as a shock then, when Derek Hale turns up at his door one night, screaming baby in his arms, asking for help.

"A Functioning Adult’s Field Guide to Enemies With Benefits" (E) by BisexualGoblin | 31,433 | The six years Stiles was away for college, he certainly missed a lot—namely the whole best friend turned into a werewolf thing. But he didn’t think he missed enough to get replaced by a douche bag like Derek Hale. Now with Scott’s wedding looming, it’s the perfect chance for Stiles to show Derek who the real brains of the operation is. If only he could stop jumping into bed with him...

"Something With Explosions" (T) by suburbanmotel | 5,027 | Derek has become, for lack of a better word, untethered. Unmoored in time and space, flitting here and there and back again. It’s unnerving, disorienting, terrifying, educational. Apparently he missed a lot of things the first time around.

"Fine" (M) by suburbanmotel | 12,970 | Supernatural entities. Grievous bodily harm. Massive blood loss. Risking life and limb for others. Ongoing existential angst and questioning the very meaning of existence. In other words, just another ordinary day for Derek. It’s fine.

"Just What We All Need" (M) by Black_Calliope | 1,890 | Every single time, Derek lets Stiles in.

"With Blood on Your Teeth" (E) by Melpomene | 56,871 | When his dad speaks, it's in a carefully neutral voice. "You saw two wolves tonight." "One wolf," Stiles corrects. "The other was messed up. It had a wolf face, yes, but it was..." He trails off, not sure how to describe the wrongness of it. The way its muscles moved beneath its skin, rippling and bulging unnaturally. "It wasn't right."

"LUST (Love & Unresolved Sexual Tension)" (M) by theroguesgambit | 8,278 | The pack has to deal with an incubus.

"Incandescent" (M) by Hedwig221b | 7,290 | “You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to.

"Bare Hands, Scarlet Dawn" (M) by Hedwig221b | 3,484 | “With your bare hands, baby?” Derek chuckled quietly. “Damn.” And Stiles… laughed. It was short and stiff, full of disbelief and something raw under its skin. But, god, only Derek could make him laugh when his entire world was crumbling down.

"Just A Game" (M) by Hedwig221b | 1,839 | The gold on Stiles’ ring finger shined in the streetlights as he nodded. He sucked on his bloody lip — god, Stiles would never realize how much of a tease he was — and folded his arms around himself. He would wait, Derek knew it. Even if they convicted him or if it took years, Stiles would wait. He would never lie with another. He would never let anyone close.

"Birds of a Feather Fuck Together" (E) by calrissian18 | 26,144 | Laura is a crusader without a cause, Stiles dances like the whole world's betrayed him and Derek's having trouble getting both feet outside his door.

"Alpha Hale's #1 Fan" (T) by calrissian18 | 4,052 | Stiles trips a curse that makes him agree with everything Derek says. It's great. Until it isn't.

"Lace and Cologne" by Melpomene | 3,093 | Derek leans in close, then, his nose pressed against Stiles’ neck. He inhales slowly, almost like he’s savoring Stiles’ scent. “Did you want me? Like, back in Beacon Hills, did you want me?” Stiles asks, even though he knows the answer already. He just wants to hear it.

"Heliotropism" (M) by Waddiwasii | 857 | Like a flower rotating towards the light of the sun, so Stiles wants to follow Derek. But Stiles is no flower, no, he is a tree, and so he stays rooted; branches chained as he lies in wait for the sun to rise again.

"Backwoods Revival" (E) by Waddiwasii | 4,327 | Stiles had expected a lot of things when reluctantly agreeing to go on a camping trip. Bugs, for one, and maybe also one or two Kumbayas - courtesy of Scott - in front of the campfire. He had not expected his libido to make a raring comeback after months of being on hiatus, leaving him with the boners of all boners while sharing a tent with Derek freaking Hale.

"Tipping Point" (E) by Waddiwasii | 2,283 | “I knew it,” Derek mumbles. “Excuse you, Jon Snow,” Stiles replies, because no one ever taught him the appropriate response to coming in one's own pants. “You know nothing.”

"Fusion" (E) by Waddiwasii | 462 | "I give it like a minute tops." The sound of a zipper cutting through the air, a cold chill against his heated skin, fingers curling around his- "Yeah, make that thirty seconds."

"The Life Expectancy of a Fluorescent Bulb" (M) by suburbanmotel | 10,492 | “Do you need a ride?” Derek says. The light over their heads is flashing rapidly now but no one else seems to notice. “You offering?” Derek shrugs, not looking away. “Sure. You look like you need one.”

"Better Off (Un) Dead" (M) by suburbanmotel | 5,971 | The night before the day before Halloween, Stiles loses a fight with a vampire, eats an unfortunate amount of candy, and falls in love with a newly turned zombie werewolf. Surprisingly, the candy thing is the worst part of the deal.

"One life stand" (E) by Vendelin | 3,858 | Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

"You make a first impression" (T) by Vendelin | 1,900 | Derek winces, as Stiles slides up next to him, and throws an arm over his shoulder. He’s wearing a pink party hat, and is holding a half-empty solo cup. “Derek,” he breathes, seemingly awestruck. “I didn’t think you’d show up!”

"Little talks" (M) by Vendelin | 5,387 | “Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.” Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.” It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.

"Yield" 🔒 (M) by frek | 987 | It's early in the morning and Derek wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"you know what really steams my soymilk?" (T) by HalfFizzbin | 1,082 | Derek finds a job, and Stiles finds Derek delightful.

"just once" (E) by stilinskisparkles | 20,583 | “I’m your bodyguard!” “Yeah, I know, and I get that you’re worried I am somehow living under the illusion you are Kevin Costner and I’m Whitney Houston, but Derek?” Stiles grabs his tie before Derek can stop him, pulls him close enough to murmur in his ear, “I can’t sing.”

"love & other simple things" (E) by sarcasticfishes | 5,997 | Five things Derek didn't know about Stiles, and one thing he knew better than anyone.

••••••

That's 100!

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Monster

Was playing with the idea of all the bitten Were's worrying about shifting and being seen as a monster. The feeling never lasts long because they have a full support system (including born wolves) who reaffirm they aren't monsters VS Stiles whose own mother called him a monster in a flashback and believing himself to be the thing that killed her... Like? Am I alone in this? Stiles becomes the odd ball out. The human within the pack. The exception... Treated differently, looked at differently and he hides behind his clown bravado because being laughed at is better than being feared. Rather be a clown than a nightmare...? IDK, kinda want to write a whole 120,000k fic on it but here's this for now.

--------

“Who the fuck pissed off the Djinn?” It's the first question Stiles asks at the pack briefing. 

Two weeks. It had been two weeks and the demon had already made its way through the ranks. No one knew where it came from, what it wanted or why it was targeting both packs.

It needed to touch you. That was the main thing. It would take different shapes, disguise itself or even appear out of thin fucking air and once it was close enough it laid it’s hand on an exposed piece of skin and reality would bend. 

Not that that was a rarity in Beacon Hills. Really. Stiles could have forgiven the thing if that was all it did. Change things a bit, cause a few hallucinations, feed off pain or fear and then zap out. Sure. He’d seen worse. He’d been worse. 

The Djinn didn’t want to kill. Just feed. The problem however, the real problem was that this sick bastard had learned one very important detail about the packs. About these war hardened supernatural teens and young adults that suffered more from PTSD than they ever would from acne. Memories usually hurt worse than hallucinations. 

The images the Djinn created weren’t new. They were old, recycled ones that haunted not only the person touched but anyone near them. Yeah, the asshole could show your worst memory to the town square like it was Shakespeare in the fucking Park and feed off anyone who witnessed it. 

It went after Isaac first. Stiles remembers being frozen in place. Watching Isaac—Now Isaac looking over himself, four years younger and pressed up against his kitchen wall. Shards of glass and broken plates scattered around him, pieces in his hair and shirt and cutting down his face. The wispy, faded image of Mr Lahey standing over him, screaming. Yelling. Threatening to lock his son down into the freezer once again. 

It had shocked both the packs. Watching that horrible night, watching Isaac bent and tired and broken. His Isaac—Now Isaac had let out a strangled cry and that had been enough to get Stiles moving, grabbing at the beta and yanking him away from the entity. The images had disappeared along with the Djinn the moment the touch was broken. 

Since then it had been a scramble and panicked race to both trap the creature and try to evade it. The attempts had been less than successful. The Djinn worked its way through the members, one by one. First to Scott who had to relive the moment of Allison’s death and then to Lydia who experienced the night of Peter’s resurrection. Boyd went through the disappearance of his sister and Liam the moment of his first turn. Malia watched the car crash and Ethan saw his brother’s passing yet again. 

There's only two left now. Derek had tried to keep himself under the radar by dodging new places and people like the plague whereas Stiles had taken a different approach. The best approach as luck would have it. Stiles simply didn’t get caught. 

Stiles-Fox-Stilinski, the human beta with no supernatural abilities had been the next targeted victim. And he relished it. Excelled in it. It wasn’t just that he was faster, but smarter. Able to guess the Djinn’s next move, knowing when the demon had used up too much energy to be able to materialize. Trusting on gut instincts to tell him which people and places to stay away from only to be proven right again and again.

It was almost laughable how easily Stiles had been able to evade it. No one said the words but he guessed it was a residual reflex from the Nogitsune. Which, hey. Suited him fine. Out of all the shit he lost at least he had gained something helpful. And it was helpful, extremely helpful. Until this moment. 

The moment where the Djinn got so tired of trying to latch itself to the fox it made the sudden and immediate turn away from the trap Stiles was leading it into and zeroed in on Derek. 

Stiles skids to a stop, turning to watch the Djinn racing towards the alpha, arm outstretched and eyes black. And Stiles knows. Knows that once he did touch Derek the flames would be burning all around them. The screams and cries of all 8 members of the Hale Family rising in the air with the smell of ash and death. 

“No…” He hears himself whisper. The thought of it sends a panicked jolt through his body. For Derek to have to see that... to have to relieve that? And then he’s sprinting forward, the spark bursting inside him, giving him the speed he needs. He yells as he slams himself into Derek’s side, gasping as the force pulses them away from one another and nearly sends him to his knees. He feels fingers wrap painfully around his wrist before he can hit the ground and his heart sinks when a grayish hand pulls him back up. 

“Stiles!” He shuts his eyes, shaking his head furiously as he tries to back away from the voice… the image of his mother. “Don't!” 

He can't help it. He knows he shouldn’t look. Shouldn’t let it feed. Shouldn’t give it any more power. They had been so close to catching it, if he had only been able to— “Stiles. Stiles don’t!” 

He opens his eyes and there's a nine year old him again, standing on the hospital roof as his mother paces along the ledge. Her eyes filled with hate and tears and pain as she levels on him. Adult him. “Don’t get near me! Don’t touch me!” 

Stiles is aware of the other members. Of the pack watching in confusion. They had all had their trauma... of monsters and anger and loss. They had expected his to be the Nogitsune. He knew they had. And there's confusion and doubt on their faces as they watch Claudia now...

No one had known this part of his life. Not even Scott had seen or heard the extent of it, and Stiles shakes his head again as the dread and humiliation and fear grips him. 

It's a second, a blink and Claudia’s ghostly face surges towards him, so close now he could reach out and kiss her cheek if he could make himself move. “You disgusting, filthy little animal! Get away from me! I’m not going to let you kill me!” 

“I… I don’t want to kill you.” It's the same thing his younger self had said then. He repeats it now, hoping something has changed. Hoping anything has changed. It hasn't...

“Liar! You're a liar. Look at you! You are killing me! You’re murdering me! I wish I had never had you!” He can feel the tears falling down his face. Why was no one moving him? Why was no one breaking the connection? He sure as hell couldn’t! As much as he tries to pull away the Djinn's grip latches onto him like a vise. “You’re a monster! A monster!” She spits, so close now her nose is nearly touching his. 

“I’d never hurt you…” Stiles hears himself repeating over the voice of his nine year old vision and the slap she sends him fades through and out his cheek. 

“YOU BEING HERE HURTS ME! YOU BREATHING HURTS ME! IT KILLS ME!—“ And then it’s not Claudia anymore. And god, why won’t anyone move him? Why won’t anyone break it? Because Stiles can’t… Can’t look at his father’s drunken face. Can’t stand here watching the broken beer bottle fly passed his head again. He doesn’t, didn’t even flinch when the liquid splattered on and around him. Not then. Not now as Noah picks up where his wife left off. “You killed her! She was terrified of you and it killed her! You think I wanted this? You think I want to look at your face every day? You think I want to see her eyes looking back at me from you!?” Noah slams his hand against the invisible wall and Stiles recoils at the echo of the next words. 

“You killed her. And now you’re killing me too.” 

“Stiles!” Stiles feels his knees buckle as he’s dragged away. 

Derek’s arms pulling him forward, into his chest as the Djinn screeches from somewhere behind them. He knows the images are gone. Knows if he looks up now the preserve would be quiet and dark and normal. But he doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have the energy to stand much less turn his head. 

He feels Derek wrap the leather jacket around his shoulders. Feels him pressing his cheek down into his hair. Scenting him, talking to him but he can’t make out the words and he can’t stop the tears from rushing down his face and he can’t look at any of them. 

“Stiles! Stiles, hey.” Derek says frantically, pushing him back to try and meet his eyes and when Stiles does meet them Derek lets out a broken whine. “It’s not real. Stiles. It’s not!” He says fiercely. 

“It was…” Is all he can think to say and he watches the alpha’s face break a little more. Bright green eyes glossy and lips trembling and... god not Derek. Anyone but Derek. Of all the terrible things that would come of this... to have his alpha’s pity…

Stiles can’t do it. Doesn’t know how to do it. Doesn’t know how to breathe, to move, to be. He feels the air closing in around him, sees the black dots blot out his vision and then everything goes black. 

[starboye]

"𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒"

Day I - Older!Captain Price fucking femboy!younger!male reader

Day II - Rafe Cameron disciplining male reader because you were acting all bratty at one of his parties

Day III - Drew Starkey making male reader his bitch and dominating him after having a hard day

Day IV - Nate Jacobs choking male reader while fucking him

Day V - Stiles Stilinski rough fucking ftm!male reader and talking about how much he want you to get pregnant

Day VI - Gojo Saturo and male reader role playing you as the damsel in distress and gojo saving you and dicking you down as a prize

Day VII - Simon Riley breeding male reader over and over till you're filled with his delicious cum

Day VIII - Matt Sturniolo having a praise kink and top!male reader using that to your advantage throughout sex

Day IX - Tom Holland edging male reader so much

Day X - Chris Sturniolo fucking you till your an incoherent mess in front of a mirror

Day XI - Perter Parker orgasm denial from top!male reader

Day XII - remy gets jealous for whatever reason and he makes you watch him jack off and you can't touch him. You just have to sit in front of him and watch him and when he finishes he makes you swallow all of it

Day XIII - rough smut with Nicholas Alexander Chavez, maybe some guy tries flirting with reader and Nicholas gets pissed and rough fucks reader, maybe some daddy kink

Day XIV - Billy Loomis x SubTop shy nerdy Male Reader😭

Day XV - bellamy blake x thick fem boy reader, where everyone is having a party with drinking and dancing, and bellamy see reader dancing with other men and they keep grabbing his big ass bc it’s so big. so bellamy takes reader away and fucks that ass (also some face sitting 😏)

Day XVI - helping channing tatum at the gym and somehow stuff turns nsfw, do anything ya want with that, i'm just really REALLY desperate for stuff about him, can be short, can be long idc

Day XVII - cuck/stag fic with Charles leclerc the f1 driver, he seems like he’d be a huge cumdump behind closed doors and the reader could share him as punishment/desperation.

Day XVIII - Professor Miguel O’Hara and his student-boyfriend meeting up after class. Why, you ask? Well, the professor’s got a meeting. He’s gotta head home and take a shower. But a shower means washing away his glorious, glorious sweat and musk. He doesn’t want to deprive his good little slut of his favorite things in the world, so tells his boy to give him a tongue bath before his real one.

Day XIX - You want kinky? Musk kink, boot kink, choking kink, and of course knife play with Ghostface (whichever version) the ftm!reader fought back when GF tried to kill em, they all get sweaty and turned on so the fighting turned to fucking, Ghostface being Ghostface, he's all degrading, making the reader do stuff like grind on his boots, lick the blood off his knife and fuck themselves with the handle of it, all those good shit, what you think? Not too far?

Day XX - Sue Storm and The Thing are in an undercover mission which leaves Human Torch (Chris Evans), reader and Mr Fantastic (John Krasinski) alone in the same building. Johnny and reader use their free time to fuck, waking Reed from his sleep who is both frustrated and horny from reader's moans, he gets to the scene and finds Johnny fucking reader while holding him standing, this makes Reed turn feral and joins them to make a really dirty night

Day XXI - Mike Schmidt x kinky male reader who introduces him to the world of BDSM. Mike being a sub top with a praise kink, breeding kink, pet play (like having a leash on him and such) and other nasty things! Maybe even a bit of edging, like M/N punishing him by cockwarming him without letting him cum for a good while, leaving Mike needy and desperate to fill his boyfriends tight hole with his warm seed😮‍💨

Day XXII- ross lynch x onlyfans creator!reader, reader is recording himself for his only fans and as he is fingering himself ross walks in to his room and sees his roommate knuckles deep so reader gets an idea and stands up invites ross to come join and ross jumps on to the bed and start rimming him and fucks him like a slut and after they finish ross puts a cute little diamond butt plug

Day XXIII- soft dom soap x sub male reader where reader tries to be bratty to push soap but soap just treats him kindly like “oh you poor thing have I been neglecting you?” But like not in a mocking way and reader breaks kinda quickly and is good for soap enter babbling reader while soap coos praises

Day XXIV - Dom top Felix and bottom femboy male Reader where the middle of the night Felix catches reader in his bedroom fucking himself with a dildo moaning Felix's name saying fuck me Daddy so Felix steps into the room grabs Reader by the hair and starts fucking his face with big cock saying you want Daddy to fuck you and while Felix is fucking the Reader's face uses the dildo to fuck the reader then Felix is fills the reader's mouth full of cum and make some swallow then turns the reader on his hands and knees and just starts fucking the reader on the bed pulls him against his chest grabs his throat and just starts fucking him as hard as he can with the reader screaming Daddy Felix spanking the reader Felix just filling him full of cum reader belongs to Daddy now then the next morning Felix is fucking the reader as hard as he can against the window of the bedroom

Day XXV - Hiram Lodge and stepson femboy bottom male reader where Hiram has secretly been having sex with his stepson and turning him into his slutty bottom boy today alone for the whole month of October and Rita's dressing up in the slutty little school girl outfit with the mini skirt and thong and heels and Hiram and him want to try bondage so he gets all the equipment and Hiram ties the Reader's hands behind his back as Reader licks hiram's muscles and I'm face fucking male reader till he fills his mouth full of c** and then just starts fucking him while he's tied up pulling his hair and putting a ball gag in the Reader's mouth with bondage kink come eating muscle worship daddy kink and Hiram talking about getting reader pregnant if that's okay

Day XXVI - Logan howlette making ftm reader wear a bunny langire after his workout coming back all musky and sweaty all pent up and fucks male reader while male reader licks up logans sweat etc. Making logans smell kink and breed kink go off and fully breads male reader / size difference with Wolverine and an FTM reader. Logan is much bigger and stronger than reader and can pick him up, pin him down, and throw him around with ease and both of them go bonkers for it. Logan loves the control and power he has to play with reader as he pleases and reader loves feeling overpowered and in Logan's complete control

Day XXVII - sub!thicc femboy ftm reader x dom!homelander where reader is a supe in the seven who is stronger than all the heros and especially homelander but not strong enough in bed?? homelander finds reader in his apartment right in his room trying on the shortest skirts that shows his ass and pink high stockings, reader trys to explain before he gets his ass eaten and fucked raw until he cant breathe properly. i want some breeding kinks and alot of spanking, and ass worship if thats okay? i know ur busy but im just requesting this only if you have time, please and thank you.

Day XXVIII- X-Men 97 magneto and younger 18 year oldbottom femboy male reader loves that magneto so much older than him and has a daddy kink so when they're alone he catches magneto and nothing but a pair purple underwear so he starts kissing magneto licking down his muscles does magneto poses you sucking on his nipples and licking his abs body kissing down licking on his muscles drop to his knees and starts sucking magnetos big cock and balls magnet o moaning and calling reader a good boy grabbing his hair starts face fucking him then magneto pics reader up and starts fucking him right there till he feels him so full of c** and then throws reader over his desk and just keeps fucking him daddy kink breeding Kink and cum eating kink maybe you had Magneto's power somehow for bondage maybe readers power to make someone feel pleasure or pain how you want to do it maybe

Day XXIX - Step brother Tyler Lawrence Gray rough fucks his big bubble but step brother and cums in him

Day XXX - rafe cameron x thicc/male reader x topper x barry your dads is a football coach and rafe, topper, and barry are his star players so he invites them over and you get called down the stairs and they all just start staring at you and your juicy ass so as the night goes on whenever they walk by you they rub their bulges your ass or whenever you bend down to pick something up they always touch your ass…. After a while your dad goes to sleep and rafe, topper and barry goes into your room and they talk to you and rafe starts sitting on your bed and rubbing your thighs and then they finally convince you to have a foursome and they take turns eating your ass and while rafe is fuckin your ass he tells you not to be so loud your dad is sleeping so barry puts his dick in your mouth and you start sucking and your jerking off topper and they take turns and after awhile you are just fucked out with some many loads up your ass and rafe grabs his phone and spreads open your ass to take a video but after he’s done Barry and topper clean you out with their tongues and rafe helps you put your clothes on and in the morning your dad ask why are you limping and rafe laughs

Day XXXI - James mcavoy fic where James is reader’s dad best friend and he is coming over to stay for the summer reader and James don’t really get along at first. But one night James comes out the shower while reader is still awake and James ends up fucking him and eating him out hard and has him worship James body through scent and kissing etc

[dreamersworldduh]

Omg hiiii again,i don't know if you've watched Teen Wolf, but can you write of Stiles stilinski. Instead of Stiles liking Lydia since third grade, he's like the male reader instead, and he's finally wanted to make a move on male reader so he tries to show off at lacrosse practice but it failed and he continues until he finally confess to male reader. If it could get a little sexual at the end it would be soo appreciated 🙏🙏. Your works are still sooo good, and I loved my request you did. Thank you so much 🙏🙏🙏

CLUMSY CONFESSIONS

• STILES STILINSKI x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Stiles Stilinski has spent years secretly in love with his best friend but never found the courage to confess. However, after an intense lacrosse practice where he pushed himself to impress you—only to end up in the hospital—he began to realize he couldn't keep his feelings bottled up any longer.

WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge. 

WORDS! 6.9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Here we are with the sarcastic, witty and dashing, Stiles Stilinski. There’s a easter egg in there from one of my favorite movies—if you catch (you are awesome). This was fun to write—honestly there might be a part 2, but anyway I hope you enjoy ✨

Nine years, six months, and two days. That's exactly how long Stiles Stilinski has been in love with you—not that he's been counting or anything. Not that he lies awake at night, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his bedroom ceiling, replaying every moment, every touch, every stolen glance between you. Not that he marks the time in the way your laughter has changed over the years, from the high-pitched giggles of childhood to the softer, more knowing chuckles of adolescence.

It all started in third grade, in Mrs. Carter's classroom, where you plopped down beside him without hesitation, your pencil poised over wide-ruled paper, the scent of bubblegum lingering in the air between you. You were the first person to truly see him—not just as the hyperactive kid with too many thoughts and too little filter, but as Stiles. You noticed things, like how he bit his lip when he was nervous or how he tapped his fingers against his desk in a pattern only he understood. You laughed at his jokes, even the really bad ones, and when he forgot his fruit snacks, you always—always—slid half of yours across the desk without a second thought.

At first, it was admiration, a simple fondness for the way you scrunched your nose when you concentrated, the way your hair caught the sunlight just right, the way you somehow made even the most ordinary moments feel special. But admiration turned into something deeper, something heavier, something that settled in his chest like an immovable weight. It was in the way his pulse stuttered when you linked your pinky with his during a scary movie, the way his stomach flipped when you ruffled his hair absentmindedly, the way he memorized the exact shade of your eyes even though he'd never had the courage to hold your gaze for too long.

Through the years, there have been countless moments—late-night talks where your voices dipped into whispers, study sessions where your knees knocked together beneath the table, inside jokes that no one else could possibly understand. But through it all, Stiles has never let himself say the words that burn at the back of his throat.

Because as much as he aches for you to look at him the way he looks at you, as much as he dreams of your fingers lingering just a second longer when they brush against his, he's terrified. Terrified that if he speaks the truth, if he lets the love that has woven itself into his very being spill from his lips, he'll lose you. And losing you? That would be the one thing he could never recover from.

The connection between you and Stiles is so natural, so effortless, that his friends can't begin to comprehend the idea of you ever walking away from him. To them, you and Stiles are an inevitability, a force of nature, like the tide meeting the shore—constant, unwavering, and undeniable. If anyone is blind to the reality of the situation, it's him. Because to everyone else, what you share isn't just friendship. It's something deeper, something unspoken yet impossible to ignore, woven into the very fabric of your interactions.

Scott has lost count of how many times he's watched the two of you exchange nothing more than a glance before dissolving into laughter, as if carrying on an entire conversation without a single word. It's almost eerie how in sync you are, how seamlessly you anticipate each other's thoughts and reactions. He's seen it happen mid-battle, mid-study session, mid-sentence—you don't even have to try. It just happens.

Lydia barely suppresses an eye roll every time Stiles insists, "We're just friends." Because to her—and to everyone else—there is no just about it. She's analyzed every interaction, every lingering look, every moment Stiles gets that dreamy, faraway expression when you aren't paying attention. She's seen the way his hand twitches, like he wants to reach for yours but doesn't, and the way his entire body relaxes the second you're beside him, like you're the one thing in the world that makes sense.

Even Malia, who isn't exactly known for her emotional awareness, has taken notice. More than once, she's tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the way Stiles instinctively moves toward you, how his body seems to orient itself in your direction even when you're across the room. Once, she even asked, completely deadpan, "Are you sure you're not mates?" Stiles choked on his drink, of course, but it didn't escape anyone's notice that he didn't actually deny it.

To them, it's not a matter of if you and Stiles will finally admit what's been obvious for years—it's a matter of when. Hell, half the pack already assumes you're together. And if they didn't know any better, they'd think you and Stiles were just keeping it a secret for the fun of it, stringing everyone along in some kind of elaborate inside joke. Because a connection like yours? It doesn't go unnoticed. It doesn't just exist without meaning something.

While your friends—and most of the pack—were convinced that you and Stiles were already a couple, the rest of the student body had their own interpretations. Sure, some people noticed how often the two of you were together, how your steps naturally fell in sync, how Stiles' entire demeanor shifted the second you entered a room. They saw the way he leaned in when you spoke, like every word that left your lips was something precious. But others? They didn't pick up on the unspoken language between you, the lingering glances that stretched just a beat too long, the way Stiles seemed to breathe easier when you were near.

No, they only saw what wasn't there—no hand-holding between classes, no kisses stolen by lockers, no official title to confirm what everyone else assumed. And because of that, they came to one simple conclusion: You were single.

Technically, they weren't wrong. But Stiles sure as hell didn't see it that way.

He stood beside his locker, fingers curled tightly around the strap of his backpack, jaw clenched as he watched the scene unfolding just a few feet away. One of his fellow lacrosse teammates—Jake something, because honestly, Stiles couldn't be bothered to remember—was leaning far too close to you, his forearm braced against your locker like some kind of wannabe heartthrob in a bad teen movie.

Stiles knew that posture. That smirk. That tone. He'd seen it a hundred times before, heard the fake charm laced in every word. And right now, every muscle in his body screamed that Jake wasn't just making conversation—he was flirting.

And worse? You were smiling. Not the dazzling, full-wattage grin that Stiles had practically built his entire emotional stability around, but a small, amused curve of your lips. A polite, entertained smile. But still, a smile.

Stiles' stomach twisted in frustration.

With an exasperated sigh, he turned to Scott and Isaac, his eyes darting back to you every few seconds, like he couldn't quite tear himself away. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, voice low and clipped. "He's not even funny. Or interesting. Or good at lacrosse, for that matter."

Scott, ever the reasonable one, placed a steadying hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Relax, man. If anything was really happening, you'd know. You two have a connection. Just talk to him."

But Isaac? Isaac had no intention of easing his suffering. With his usual smug grin, he leaned lazily against the lockers, arms crossed. "Look, I hate to break it to you, Stilinski, but your boy over there?" He nodded toward Jake, who was still talking to you, still way too close. "He's one of the hottest guys in school. Aside from me, obviously."

Stiles scowled as Isaac flicked a piece of lint off his sleeve, completely unfazed by the death glare he was receiving.

"It's only a matter of time before someone snatches him up," Isaac added, his smirk widening.

Stiles groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Wow. Super helpful, Isaac. Really appreciate it."

Scott shot Isaac a look, but the damage was already done. Because as much as Stiles wanted to brush it off, those words lodged themselves into his brain like a splinter. What if someone else got to you first?

That single thought sent a jolt of determination straight through him.

No. Not happening.

If there was ever a time for Stiles Stilinski to stop hesitating, to quit hiding behind fear and excuses, it was now. Because if he didn't make a move soon, someone else would. And there was no way in hell he was about to let that happen.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, spilling gold and amber hues across the lacrosse field, you settled onto the bleachers, the cool metal beneath you warmed by the lingering heat of the day. The air was thick with the sounds of practice—the rhythmic thud of lacrosse balls meeting sticks, the sharp calls of the coach barking orders, the occasional grunt of exertion as the team wove through their drills. Your eyes, however, were locked onto one player in particular.

Stiles Stilinski.

Despite his usual chaotic, slightly uncoordinated energy, there was something different about him tonight. He was focused. Determined. Almost... competitive?

From across the field, he spotted you, and it was like a switch flipped inside him. His face lit up instantly, a grin stretching from ear to ear. With one hand gripping his lacrosse stick, he lifted the other in an enthusiastic wave—so enthusiastic that he nearly lost his grip on his stick in the process. You chuckled, returning the gesture with a playful wiggle of your fingers, amusement dancing in your eyes.

Unfortunately, your little moment didn't go unnoticed.

"Trying to impress someone, Stilinski?"

The voice came from beside Stiles—Jake Matthews, one of the more arrogant players on the team. The same Jake who had been leaning against your locker earlier that day, trying to charm his way into your good graces. His tone was casual, laced with teasing, but there was an unmistakable challenge woven beneath it, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced between Stiles and you.

Stiles' grin vanished instantly, replaced by a scowl as he turned to face Jake. Oh, this guy again.

"I don't need to try," Stiles shot back, tightening his grip on his stick. "Some of us have natural charm. You wouldn't understand."

Jake scoffed, twirling his lacrosse stick with an easy confidence. "Right. We'll see about that."

And just like that, the game was on.

What should have been a standard practice turned into something else entirely—an all-out competition. Every drill, every pass, every shot suddenly became a battleground. Jake, fueled by his own arrogance, made a show of his skill, dodging past defenders with ease and landing shots with near-perfect precision. But Stiles—fueled by sheer stubbornness and the undeniable need to win—was playing with an intensity no one had ever seen before.

He ran harder, passed sharper, and somehow—somehow—even managed to score a few impressive goals. The kind that made both Scott and Isaac stop mid-conversation and exchange stunned glances.

"When did that happen?" Isaac muttered, arms crossed as he watched Stiles maneuver around a defender with surprising finesse.

Scott shook his head, equally baffled. "I have no idea. But I think we just found his greatest motivation."

It wasn't just effort. It wasn't just determination.

Stiles was playing for you.

And honestly? It was kind of working.

Until it wasn't.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the overwhelming urge to one-up Jake. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that he could still see you sitting on the bleachers, eyes trained on him, an almost amused little smile playing on your lips.

Whatever the reason, Stiles got cocky.

Going for what was supposed to be his grand finale, he sprinted across the field, angling himself for an epic shot—one that, in his head, would be flawless, the kind of goal that would leave you thoroughly impressed. But instead of landing his cinematic moment of triumph, disaster struck.

His foot caught in the turf.

Time seemed to slow as he realized—far too late—that there was no saving himself from what was about to happen.

With a graceless flail and a yelp of pure panic, Stiles went down. Hard. His lacrosse stick tumbled from his grip, skidding across the grass, and a collective wince rippled through the field as he landed in a heap, the sharp crack of impact echoing through the air.

A second later, a low groan escaped his lips.

Scott was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees. "Stiles, you okay?"

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, mentally assessing the damage before attempting to sit up. "Yeah, yeah—I'm fine," he grumbled, only to immediately suck in a sharp breath and clutch his ankle. "Okay, nope. Not fine. Definitely not fine."

Isaac, standing over him with a smirk, tilted his head. "Hate to say it, Stilinski, but I think your charm just backfired."

Despite the pain radiating from his ankle, Stiles still found the strength to glare up at him. "Wow. So helpful, Isaac. Truly."

Scott sighed, already prepared to help him off the field, but Stiles barely registered it. Because even as his pride (and his ankle) throbbed in agony, his gaze flickered toward the bleachers—toward you.

Your expression was a mix of amusement and concern, but the fact that you were concerned at all sent a different kind of ache through Stiles' chest—one that had nothing to do with the fall.

Because twisted ankle or not, humiliating wipeout or not, one thing was crystal clear.

He wasn't going to stop fighting for your attention.

Not now. Not ever.

The hospital room at Beacon Hills Memorial was as sterile and dimly lit as ever, the harsh fluorescent lights casting a clinical glow over the walls. The scent of antiseptic and freshly laundered sheets filled the air, but none of that mattered to you. Your arms were crossed as you stood beside Scott, watching Melissa McCall—Beacon Hills' most capable nurse and, more importantly, Scott's ever-reliable mother—wrap Stiles' ankle with practiced efficiency.

Her movements were swift yet careful, the kind of precision that only came from years of experience. She worked as she spoke, her voice both professional and motherly, a perfect blend of authority and care.

"You're lucky," she said, securing the bandage with a firm but gentle touch. "It's just a minor sprain. Stay off it for a few days, maybe use some crutches if it starts hurting too much. And—" she shot Stiles a knowing look before he could so much as open his mouth, "no attempting to run around on it like an idiot."

But Stiles wasn't listening.

His focus wasn't on Melissa. It wasn't even on his ankle.

It was on you.

Scott, ever perceptive, noticed immediately. He caught the way Stiles was staring—completely unaware that he was doing it, his brown eyes locked onto you with an intensity that would've been impossible to miss if you'd only turned your head.

Scott sighed. Here we go.

With an exaggerated stretch, he clapped his hands together and glanced at his mother. "Hey, Mom, why don't we go check on the nurse's station?" His tone was casual, too casual. "Y'know, in case they need you for anything?"

Melissa blinked, confused. "Scott, I work here. If they need me, they'll—"

"Great, let's go." Scott didn't give her a chance to finish, already ushering her toward the door with the determination of someone trying to prevent an impending disaster.

Melissa shot him an unimpressed look as he all but shoved her into the hallway. "Subtle," she muttered before the door swung shut behind them, leaving you and Stiles alone in the quiet hum of the hospital room.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The distant beeping of machines filled the silence, along with the faint murmur of nurses and doctors just beyond the door. Stiles shifted slightly on the bed, drumming his fingers against the railing, the metal clinking softly under his touch.

Then, finally, he cleared his throat and attempted a casual smile—his signature smile, the one that had always been a little awkward but undeniably charming.

"So," he started, dragging the word out, his voice just a little higher than usual. "You, uh... you saw that, huh? The game. The practice. Me. Doing well for once."

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Yeah. That was... a first."

Stiles pressed a hand to his chest, scandalized. "Wow. Wow. So little faith in me. I'm wounded. Emotionally and physically."

You grinned, shaking your head. "I'm just saying, I've never seen you play like that before. I mean, you were actually keeping up with everyone."

Stiles scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. "Okay, that's fair."

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the tension in the room easing just enough for Stiles to relax against the pillows.

But then, curiosity flickered in your expression as you leaned against the hospital bed's railing. "So... what was that all about, anyway?" You lifted an eyebrow. "I mean, I've seen you play before, but never like that. You were on fire."

Stiles opened his mouth, prepared to toss out some half-hearted excuse—something about adrenaline, maybe sheer dumb luck. But before his brain could catch up, the truth just slipped out.

"Well, yeah. It was because of you."

The second the words left his mouth, his brain short-circuited. His eyes widened, mouth snapping shut like he wanted to reel them back in, as if he could somehow undo what he had just confessed.

You blinked.

Stiles panicked.

"Uh—I mean, not like because of you, you," he rambled, his hands flailing as he scrambled for damage control. "But, like, inspired by you. Or, uh, motivated? Encouraged?" His voice pitched higher with each word, his hands now waving in frantic gestures. "Not that I'm saying you specifically motivate me, but—well, actually, no, that is what I'm saying, but not in a creepy way, just in a totally normal and cool way—"

"Stiles."

He froze.

You had your arms crossed now, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. "So what you're saying is... you were trying to impress me?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken tension.

Stiles let out a strangled, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted anywhere but at you. "Pfft, no! Of course not! ...Maybe."

A slow smirk spread across your face.

Stiles groaned, immediately flopping back onto the hospital bed with a dramatic sigh, one arm thrown over his face like he couldn't bear to see your reaction.

"Kill me now."

Your laughter rang through the small hospital room, light and effortless, cutting through Stiles' dramatic groan as he buried his face in his hands. His fingers gripped his hair in frustration, as if sheer force could undo the last sixty seconds of his life.

Rolling your eyes, you reached forward, fingers wrapping around his wrists, and gently tugged them away from his face. Stiles resisted for about half a second before relenting, his hands falling limply to his sides, revealing a face that was, without a doubt, very pink.

His expression was a perfect storm of embarrassment and something else—something softer, something hesitant, something that made your stomach flip if you let yourself think about it too hard.

"Come on, don't be so dramatic," you teased, keeping your hold on his wrists as you leaned in slightly. "It was kinda cute, actually."

Stiles blinked. "Cute?" His voice cracked on the word, high-pitched and unfiltered, and the moment he realized it, he immediately cleared his throat, forcing a more neutral expression—one that utterly failed to hide the way his ears had gone red.

You only grinned, giving his hands one last tug to pull him forward.

And that's when it happened.

You had moved without thinking, stepping closer in the process, and suddenly, you were standing between his legs. His knees bracketed your body, the warmth of him radiating through the thin fabric of his hospital shorts.

Stiles definitely noticed.

His breath hitched. His brain stalled. His hands, which had instinctively found their way to your waist to steady himself, froze.

And no matter how hard he tried, he could not not think about the fact that you were right there—closer than you'd ever been, close enough that he could count the flecks of color in your eyes, close enough that if he tilted his head even slightly, your lips would be—

Nope. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not going there.

Stiles tried to focus on anything else—the distant beeping of machines, the muffled voices of nurses in the hallway, literally any other thought that wouldn't make him combust in real time. But you weren't making it easy. Not with your hands still loosely gripping his wrists, not with your body so close, not with that teasing smile that made his heart do things it had no business doing.

His fingers twitched against your waist before he quickly ripped them away, gripping the edge of the hospital bed instead like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Meanwhile, you seemed completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown happening in Stiles' head. Instead, you just tilted your head, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"You good?" you asked, watching the way his entire body had gone rigid.

Stiles let out a noise that was supposed to be a casual laugh but came out more like a strangled wheeze.

"Yeah! Yep. Totally fine. Just, uh..." He forced a lopsided grin—one that was more nervous wreck than charming rogue. "Just... sitting here. With a sprained ankle. And my very attractive best friend standing way too close and—"

His mouth snapped shut.

His eyes widened.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over your chest. "What was that?"

Stiles slapped a hand over his face so fast it was almost comical. "Nothing. Didn't say anything. Please disregard."

But you just smirked.

Leaning in ever so slightly, you lowered your voice just enough to make Stiles' stomach flip.

"Stiles," you murmured, tilting your head. "Are you nervous?"

Stiles groaned, flopping back against the pillow like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "I hate you."

You just laughed again, and despite his sheer, complete mortification, Stiles was pretty sure that sound alone could heal his ankle faster than any of Melissa McCall's medical expertise.

You then reached forward and nudged his shoulder—not hard, just enough to jolt him out of his spiraling self-destruction. His head lifted slightly, his brown eyes meeting yours again, still wide from his earlier slip-up. You could see the wheels turning, his brain scrambling at full speed, desperately trying to figure out how to recover, how to backtrack, how to un-say the words that had already left his mouth.

But before he could even attempt an escape, you smirked.

"You know," you said casually, tilting your head, "for someone who thinks I'm attractive, you don't seem to realize you are too."

Stiles blinked.

His lips parted slightly, like his entire operating system had just crashed, his brain throwing up an error message in real time. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—his face flickering between shock, confusion, and sheer disbelief, as if he had just misheard you. As if he needed a full system reboot before he could process those words properly.

"I—wait—what?"

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. "I'm serious, Stiles. You're really attractive." You shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I just figured someone should tell you, since you clearly don't hear it enough."

Stiles made a noise.

A noise.

Something between a strangled laugh and a dying animal, his face turning an impressive shade of pink. His hands twitched at his sides, his fingers fidgeting like he suddenly had no idea what to do with them. He sat up a little straighter—well, tried to—but in doing so, he only ended up shifting closer, his knee brushing against the side of your leg.

And that was when he realized—again—just how close you were.

Oh, God.

His brain was overheating.

Before he could spiral any further, you leaned in.

His breath hitched.

The world tilted.

Your voice softened, something warm and undeniably real threading through it. "And... I'm really proud of you, you know." Your eyes searched his, the words landing in the space between you like something solid, something true. "You played amazing out there."

Stiles swallowed hard.

He wasn't sure which part was making his heart race faster—the fact that you were still standing between his legs, the way your voice sounded so genuine, or the fact that—

Oh.

Oh.

You were leaning in even closer.

His breath caught entirely when your lips pressed softly against his cheek, warm and lingering for just a second longer than necessary. The heat of the contact sent a shiver down his spine, burning through him, leaving a brand behind.

His entire body locked up.

Every single nerve in his system short-circuited.

By the time you pulled back, Stiles was frozen.

Mouth slightly open. Eyes impossibly wide. Heart definitely no longer beating at a survivable rhythm. If it were anyone else, you would've assumed he had stopped breathing altogether.

You tilted your head, amused. "You okay there, Stiles?"

Stiles slowly blinked.

Then, with absolutely zero control over his own reactions, he squeaked—an actual, audible squeak—before aggressively clearing his throat and scrambling to collect himself.

"Y-Yeah! Yep! Totally fine!" His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and he winced. "Just—just processing. You know. Uh. Normal stuff. Normal processing."

You chuckled, shaking your head fondly. "Glad to hear it."

Stiles, meanwhile, was pretty sure he was never going to recover.

For the rest of the week, Stiles could not stop smiling.

It was actually getting ridiculous.

Every time he so much as thought about that moment in the hospital—the soft press of your lips against his cheek, the warmth of your voice when you told him he was attractive, the way you had stood so close, right between his legs like it was the most natural thing in the world—his face would break out into a stupid, lovesick grin that he couldn't wipe off no matter how hard he tried.

Scott had definitely noticed.

So had Lydia. And Isaac. And literally everyone who interacted with him for more than ten seconds.

"Okay, what is wrong with you?" Lydia had asked at lunch, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as she watched him stare off into space with the goofiest smile she'd ever seen. "You look like a golden retriever that just got praised for doing a trick."

Scott, already knowing exactly what was going on, just smirked and shook his head. "It's about you know who."

Isaac, biting into an apple, tilted his head. "Ah," he said, nodding in understanding. "Bleachers Kiss Syndrome. Classic case."

Stiles snapped out of his daze immediately, scowling. "Bleachers Kiss Syndrome is not a thing."

Isaac took another bite. "It is now."

But as much as Stiles tried to brush it off, he knew they weren't wrong. Because no matter how many times he replayed it in his head, he kept circling back to the same conclusion:

He had to tell you how he felt.

He couldn't keep pretending it wasn't there, couldn't keep shoving his feelings down just because he was scared of what might happen. You liked him—maybe not in the exact way he liked you (yet), but you had to like him at least a little, right? No one just casually calls their best friend attractive and kisses them on the cheek like that unless there's something there.

Right?

Oh, God. What if he was reading this all wrong?

What if it was casual for you? What if you just saw him as a best friend, nothing more?

What if he confessed and completely ruined everything?

Stiles groaned, dragging his hands down his face as he sat slumped over his desk at home, staring blankly at his notes for a history test he definitely wasn't studying for.

But then his mind wandered back to the way you had looked at him in that hospital room, the way you had smiled right before kissing him, the way you had stayed by his side, even when you didn't have to.

And that's when he decided—screw it.

He needed to tell you. Because the way his heart had been feeling lately? He wasn't sure it could handle keeping this to himself any longer.

Stiles knew he had to find the right moment to tell you how he felt—really tell you. Not in a half-mumbled, nervous slip-up. Not in an awkward, flustered compliment that he immediately tried to backtrack. No, this had to be something big, something meaningful.

That moment didn't come right away.

In fact, it didn't come until the championship lacrosse game.

Beacon Hills was up against one of the toughest teams in the league—the Cyclones—and to say it was an intense game would be an understatement. The air was thick with tension, the crowd was electric, and every player on the field was running on pure, unfiltered adrenaline.

The game had been brutal—fast breaks, bone-rattling defense, near-impossible shots that somehow found the net. By the final quarter, Beacon Hills was up by just one point. One more goal, and they'd win the championship. But if they missed? If the Cyclones countered?

They'd be going home humiliated.

The pressure was insane.

Scott, Isaac, and Stiles stood tense on the field, eyes locked on the opposing team as they strategized their next move. Sweat dripped down Stiles' temple, his chest heaving with exhaustion, his heartbeat thunderous in his ears.

And then—because the universe was a cruel, cruel place—the ball ended up in his stick.

Everything stopped.

For a split second, it felt like the entire world had gone silent.

The pounding of footsteps, the roaring of the crowd, the whistles and frantic calls from the sidelines—all of it faded into a distant hum as Stiles stared at the lacrosse ball nestled securely in his net.

He swallowed hard.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no.

This was bad.

If he made this shot, he'd be a hero.

But if he missed?

If he missed...?

He would never hear the end of it. Not from his teammates. Not from the school. Not from literally anyone who had ever met him.

Stiles tightened his grip on the stick, fingers clammy, his pulse wild. He could do this. He just had to—

And then, in the midst of the chaos, he heard it.

"You got this, Stiles!"

Your voice.

It cut through everything, ringing loud and clear from the stands.

Without even thinking, Stiles turned his head toward the bleachers, his nerves momentarily forgotten.

And there you were.

Standing in the middle of the crowd, eyes locked on him, wearing a smile so bright, so damn confident, that his stomach flipped. Both of your thumbs were raised in encouragement, your expression screaming, C'mon, Stilinski, don't overthink it. Just take the shot.

For a second, the rest of the crowd seemed to fade, as if everyone else had noticed exactly who he was looking at. A ripple of murmurs passed through the stands, eyes shifting toward you, wondering why you of all people had chosen that exact moment to cheer.

But Stiles?

Stiles didn't care.

Because suddenly, the nerves? Gone.

The weight of the game? Didn't matter.

Because you believed in him.

Time seemed to slow down the moment Stiles swung his lacrosse stick, sending the ball flying through the air.

The crowd held its breath.

Everything—the pounding of his heart, the shouts from the sidelines, the sound of cleats scraping against the turf—faded into a distant hum as the ball spun in a perfect arc. It cut through the air, passing by outstretched sticks of the opposing players who leapt desperately in an attempt to intercept it. But Stiles had aimed it just right—just high enough to avoid their reach.

The goalie's eyes widened. He reacted a second too late, diving forward, his gloved hand stretching toward the ball in a last-ditch effort to swat it away.

For a fraction of a second, it looked like he might block it.

But then—

Swish.

The ball slammed into the net with a resounding thwack.

Silence.

For half a second, no one moved. No one breathed. Even Stiles, still frozen in his follow-through stance, wasn't sure if he had actually seen it happen or if his brain was playing some kind of cruel trick on him.

Then—

The referee's whistle pierced the air.

And just like that, the silence shattered.

The stands erupted. The entire Beacon Hills crowd exploded into cheers, a deafening roar of excitement and disbelief as people jumped to their feet, screaming in celebration.

Stiles barely had time to process it before Scott tackled him from behind, practically lifting him off the ground. Isaac was right behind him, ruffling his hair and shouting something about how he actually pulled it off. Other teammates swarmed in, clapping him on the back, shaking him by the shoulders, shouting in his face like they couldn't believe it either.

But none of that mattered.

None of it even registered.

Because the only thing Stiles saw, the only thing that mattered, was you.

Still standing in the bleachers, still grinning from ear to ear, eyes locked on him like he was the only person on the field.

And that's when he knew.

This was the moment.

The deafening roar of the crowd faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the rush of adrenaline pounding through Stiles' veins. His breath came fast, chest heaving, but he barely registered it. The celebration erupted around him—teammates shouting, hands slapping against his back, coaches cheering his name—but none of it mattered.

Stiles didn't think. He just moved.

He shoved past his teammates, dodging high-fives, ignoring the victorious yells, his feet barely touching the ground as he sprinted toward the bleachers. The crowd was a blur around him, faceless and unimportant, their voices lost to the singular, relentless thought hammering in his skull: Get to you. Get to you. Get to you.

His cleats scraped against the turf as he vaulted over the barrier, weaving through the surge of students rushing onto the field. He hardly noticed the way some clapped him on the shoulder, how a few shouted his name in triumph.

Because you were all that mattered.

The second he reached the bottom of the bleachers, your gaze locked onto his, and in that instant, every hesitation, every excuse, every fear that had kept him silent over the years vanished.

Not anymore.

Stiles took the steps two at a time, pushing through the ache in his muscles, his pulse hammering harder with each step. His entire body was electric, wired with something more powerful than adrenaline, more overwhelming than victory.

And then, finally, he was standing right in front of you.

Your lips parted, a breathless laugh escaping as you opened your mouth to congratulate him—but you never got the chance.

Because Stiles didn't wait.

His hand lifted instinctively, cupping your cheek, his fingers feather-light despite the wild energy thrumming between you both. His thumb brushed gently against your skin, his touch softer than it had any right to be considering the way his heart was slamming against his ribs.

His eyes searched yours for just a fraction of a second—just long enough for you to see everything he had been too afraid to say, too scared to show.

And then, finally—finally—he closed the distance.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss raw, desperate, full of everything— every moment of hesitation, every ounce of longing that had been bottled up for years. His other hand found your waist, pulling you in, molding your body against his as he melted into you, as if this was the only place he was ever meant to be.

The roar of the crowd, the championship, the entire world disappeared.

There was only this.

Only you and him.

And the only thought running through Stiles' head as he kissed you was:

Finally.

Suddenly, something cool and unexpected landed on his cheek. It was subtle at first—just a single drop of water sliding down his skin. He barely registered it, too caught up in you, until another followed. And then another.

He pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with yours as his eyes fluttered open.

And that's when he felt it.

The gentle pitter-patter of rain beginning to fall from the sky.

You both tilted your heads upward, watching as the dark night sky gave way to a soft, steady drizzle. The stadium lights caught the droplets as they descended, making them shimmer like falling stars.

But there was no rush for cover, no panicked scramble from the crowd.

No—if anything, the rain only seemed to heighten the energy. The cheers still echoed across the field, players and students alike embracing the moment, their victorious shouts mixing with the sound of raindrops hitting metal bleachers and dampening the turf.

Stiles, however, wasn't paying attention to any of it.

Because as the rain soaked into his jersey, cooling his flushed skin, his gaze drifted back to you.

You were still watching the sky, droplets catching in your hair, sliding down the curve of your cheek. And then, as if sensing his eyes on you, you turned to face him again.

And you smiled.

A small, soft, knowing smile—one that made his breath hitch all over again.

"Congratulations," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the chaos around you.

Stiles' heart stumbled, his chest tightening in a way that was both overwhelming and perfect.

He returned the smile, unable to help the way his fingers instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you closer.

Then, without hesitation, he kissed you again.

This time, it was slower—less frantic than the first, but just as intense. Rain mixed between your lips, the coolness of it contrasting with the warmth of the moment. His hands tightened their hold on you, as if anchoring himself to this, to you, to the undeniable certainty that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

And as the crowd cheered, as the rain continued to fall around you, as everything else faded into the background, Stiles realized something—

Winning the game had been incredible.

But this?

This was the real victory.

As the rain continued to fall around you, soaking into your clothes and sending a pleasant chill down your spine, you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Stiles' gaze again. His brown eyes were still wide with disbelief, flickering with excitement and something deeper—something that sent a thrill through you.

You leaned in close, your lips barely brushing against his ear as you whispered, "We should get out of here."

Stiles pulled back, blinking at you in surprise before a teasing grin spread across his face. "What? You scared of a little rain?" he teased, shaking his wet hair dramatically, sending tiny droplets flying everywhere. "C'mon, I thought you were tougher than that."

You rolled your eyes, stepping even closer, your hands trailing up his damp jersey until they rested on his chest. You could feel his heart hammering beneath your touch, the steady rhythm growing faster the longer you lingered.

"That's not why we should leave," you murmured, your voice taking on a tone just sultry enough to make Stiles freeze.

His cocky expression faltered slightly. "Oh?"

You smirked, tilting your head as you leaned in, your lips barely grazing the shell of his ear. "I just think... a champion deserves to be properly celebrated," you whispered, letting your voice drip with suggestion.

The effect was instantaneous.

Stiles practically short-circuited.

His breath hitched, his fingers tightening against your waist as he processed what you just said. His face went through a series of rapid changes—shock, realization, then a dawning understanding that sent heat rushing to his face.

"Oh," he managed to breathe out, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, watching with amusement as his brain visibly scrambled to catch up.

Then, in a move that surprised even himself, Stiles grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as he stepped back. "Right. Yes. Leaving. Immediately. Great idea. Fantastic idea."

You chuckled, allowing him to pull you along, both of you ducking through the rain as the cheers from the crowd faded into the background.

Because this night?

It wasn't over yet.

[teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions]

Scott: Oh god, she texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Stiles. She's mad at you.  Stiles: No, it's Allison. She's just being grammatically correct!  (meanwhile) Allison: And then I used a period so he'd know that I'm mad at him.  Lydia: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'.  Allison: I stand by my choice.