#stiles stilinski x fairy!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thepinkdreamganjaqueen · 6 months ago

Text

The Problem With Portals

Stiles Stilinski x Supernatural Fem!Reader

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Y/N is new to beacon hills but not new to constantly having to move. She only hopes for temporary stability and kindness from others when her past begins to catch up with her as it always does. Will she explain herself to the boy she's gotten the attention of, or will she move again to avoid destruction? (Characters in college)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, obsession, groping, angst, oral (m recieving), mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA, mentions of NonCon, swearing, self-doubt, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Coming back to rewatch MTV's Teen Wolf and falling in love with Stiles all over again so we had to do a smutty fic. It's heavily inspired by my love of fairy lore and cryptozoology as a whole... and of course... Stiles. Duh! Thinking of void Stiles as well. More to come, stay tuned. Please, enjoy!! And as always, i love all the support and appreciate all the interaction!! Cheers!

Word Count: 8k

THE PROBLEM WITH PORTALS

Walking into class late was the worst. You knew everyone's eyes would be drawn to you. Especially when you're the new girl, and not just the new girl, the creepy loner new girl with a sketchy checkered past who is also a supernatural being. So that's cool.

You could hear the other people snicker and whisper behind your back. The rumors they created in the absence of knowledge just basic human nature. They'd say you kept moving because you're violent, that you set your last school on fire, and that you were a killer. It wasn't your job to make them smarter, to explain yourself in any way. You liked it this way. If they thought you were unapproachable, it saved you time. No attention, no trouble. Trouble is what you've been trying to avoid, hence the reason you had to move. Again.

This was the second school this year. You had already grown tired of trying to make friends long ago after years and years, nor connections of any kind. There was no way for you to know if it was ever genuine anyway. Every man, student, and faculty member alike pined for you. The women hated you because their crushes and boyfriends' attention was always lured away. You were deemed a slut even though you never spent more than a few months at any school, not long enough to even get comfortable talking to someone let alone sleep with them. It was no fault of your own, just a by product of who you were.

Unfortunately for you, your secrets weren't as simple as the others had postulized. You wished you were "kicked out of your last school for inciting violence." However, that wasn't actually the case, just what's written on the transcripts. No, the male population went berserk fighting over who would get you as if you were a prize to be won. It caused a fire to erupt from the violence that ensued. The school was going to blame you anyway, but you moved once again due to the pressing dangers.

They were drawn to you, wanting to posses you. Their eyes void of emotion, just blank. You felt like you were being hunted every day of your life. No one could ever know or understand your truth. Your family wasn't like other families. You felt you stood out like a sore thumb. You did everywhere you went. Why would Beacon Hills be any different?

Your presence caused chaos amongst men. An incomprehensible obsession like a trance would take over, drawn helplessly to you. It led to trauma from your past. Men had tried to kidnap you, assault you, or worse, try to kill you if they couldn't have you. Always controlled by some unknown urge you didn't even understand. Friends, teachers, doctors, neighbors, if they were human, they couldn't resist your pull. It was a curse. You just wanted to be normal, to live a normal life. Have friends, go on dates, to know what it's like to have something in common with someone... anyone. Scarier even were the creatures that hunted those like yourself. Wanting to steal you vitality, your essence, and use you as a conduit between worlds. An ever-present fear.

Your mother had told you about the creatures of the woods and the woods themselves before her untimely passing, and the part it plays in your identity. "Y/N," she said. "We were born to the trees. We live our lives amongst them while we're here. That's why you love nature. it's within you as a nymph to be drawn home. The trees are the closest we can get for now. " She went on to explain that the reason why human men suffer this fatal attraction to them is because they are not of this realm. Their beauty alone is too powerful for this world. It's unnatural. The things a Fae is calable of here are just survival traits in their natural realm and too much for humans to bear. They are rendered helpless, weak, and unable to understand their urge. But the window to their plane was closed long ago. Your mother was long gone, no family to speak of. You only had your deity guardian. She spoke in riddles and had become increasingly weak to the point that you were now her caregiver. It was hard. She was all you had, all you knew, the only true protector. As a nymph cursed to the mortal coil, it caused so many divides in your life. You stopped trying to please anyone, stopped trying to have relationships, whether platonic or romantic. You did your best not to be perceived. Easier said than done when you are late to class and have to walk in front of everyone.

You walked down the aisle, avoiding prying eyes, holding your books close to your chest as you chose a seat near the back. It was only your first week here, and already you could feel this place was different. Still, your problems always seemed to follow. Not just the unwanted attention, but the missing time and missing memories, waking up in the woods, people disappearing, and the mushrooms and flowers that sprouted at your feet as you walked, creating cirlces in the mulch. You were always quick to make sure they never encirlced you. It always left you worse off, made you dizzy, feeling like you were torn between two worlds, neither here nor there. Still not truly understanding what it all meant.

As you took a seat in the back, an announcement came over the loud speaker. It said something about missing persons and the power of numbers and a possible curfew to be updated by the sheriff. It was starting again. Two boys sitting in front of you spoke in hushed voices in what seemed like a serious conversation. You couldn't help but overhear. "That's two this week, Scott!" The boy on the left said. "I told you it was something! But its different this time, theres no trace of them, its something new." He stole a glance looking over his shoulder, catching your gaze before returning to his conversation. You quickly shot your eyes down. He was remarkable. He had a lean build, brown hair with a buzz cut, and deep brown eyes that burned a hole through you. His friend he was talking to 'Scott' he had said was of similar height, more athletic build with longer black hair, you couldn't see his face yet. Something about him was darker, though. You could sense it. You twirled a pencil on the desk pretending not to listen. "Stiles! Something you'd like to share with the class?" The professor interrupted. The boy who caught your gaze, Stiles, the teacher, had said, shook his head and stammered unexpectedly. "Uh no, no." The professor turned back to their lecture as he again turned to his friend in a hushed voice."I did some research on portals, and we gotta figure this out, man. i have an idea. Later." he whispered. His friend looked over his shoulder. A smoldering gaze caught your eye before he turned back to Stiles and nodded in affirmation. The gazes felt targeted, but you couldn't be sure it was just your default thought as your own mechanism of protection against others. Class continued on without much excitement. You wondered to yourself, who those guys were, aside from their names, how did they expect to find the missing students? They had no idea what they were dealing with. Although, a noble effort, you hadn't even managed to figure this out yet, or you'd be able to maybe stay in one place.

You rushed out of the back doors, avoiding the crowds using the front. You wandered over to your favorite reading spot for respite amongst the trees that lined the field. You walked past the lacross team, filling the open space. Equipment strewn everywhere as they practiced. You noticed two familiar faces from class earlier. Stiles and Scott were on the field. You sat in a pile of leaves, quickly encircled by oily caps, and babies' breath starting at your feet. You didn't mind. You were distracted today. The woods were a buzz, leaving your skin tingling. You couldn't lie to yourself, stiles had a certain air about him. Something you couldn't quite define, but drew you in nonetheless. You tried to shake the thoughts out of your head as you picked up your book but found yourself watching him again.

Of course, you always wanted a relationship, some kind of connection. Craved it for years and years, but it was never real. It was lonely. As much as you would push yourself from the thought and remiss to just being ok alone, a part of you still yearned for companionship for a somewhat social life in any form. What it must be like to have someone who sees you for you, who knows who you are in your heart and not what they see or can't understand. You watched as they one by one took turns shooting goals. Something about him, you thought. He looked at me but didn't see through me. His eyes didn't immediately glaze over into that half lidded trance of a stare. But he was human, you thought, what kind of human could resist that urge. You felt a mixture of shame and interest, wanting to know more, wanting to know why. You caught Stiles looking in your direction quite often. You chuckled when the coach called him out on it, demanding, "Keep your eyes on the prize, Stilinski, or you'll be back on the bench!" He seemed unphased by the coaches words only a quick head nod before pulling his mask back down and turning to aim.

After a while of watching, you were able to find the strength to zone out in your book. You were unsure how long you had been there, but the sun had already begun to set over the lining of the trees. You gathered your book bag and started making your way off the field. There were still a few people from the game lingering on the field as you neared to pass. You saw the two you had been watching from class earlier. Scott was sitting down on a bench, removing his safety gear while Stiles stood in front of him, holding his helmet with one hand and wildly gesturing with the other. Scott looked up to see you heading in their direction, book in hand clutched to your chest. He looked at Stiles and motioned toward you. Stiles immediately shot a look back and turned back to his friend. They both stopped speaking and watched as you passed. It made you feel nervous, but they didn't follow. You were thankful yet perplexed. Unusual behavior, not typical of what you were used to. It was nice in a way, but it made you question things a little more deeply.

Upon arrival at your home, you went to check on your guardian. She was in her room in a chair facing the window. She was like this every day. You thought you would try and speak with her today. Maybe get some answers about this place. "The woods here feel different." You spoke. "They feel electric almost, everytime i step within them, my skin buzzes and mushrooms and flowers grow around me, but not like before, the windows open right away! It's like, theres a power here I can sense but can't see. What is this place? Why did we move here?" You asked, hoping to get answers and not riddles. Something with meaning, something tangible bit knowing you wouldn't. "We came for the trees, dear." She said blissfully. "The trees and water that run through the woods in Beacon Hills is special to us. Revitalizes us and invigorates our true being. Beacon Hills is a place of much power. It draws to all supernatural creatures alike." She said without ever looking away from the window. "The claws, teeth, and scales of this place do not fear us. Isn't it nice?"

Your jaw nearly dropped. She spoke in a way that actually made sense to you. No riddles, full sentences. Her posture remained the same as well as the look on her face. But something was different. Perhaps it was the trees, perhaps it was this place? A hot spot for the supernatural? Was it somewhere you could stay? Where people weren't affected by us? As if reading your mind, she spoke once more. "They are the only ones who can tolerate us. Them, and sometimes those close to them who have opened themselves up to our world and have been touched by the other side. We still deal with present dangers from typical humans, so it's best to still keep a distance." The conversation ended abruptly with your guardian motioning to her bed. You helped her in, watching her gaze never leave the window.

You wished her a good night and headed to your room. Your mind weighed heavily on what she had said. Still, it changed nothing. People were still going missing. You knew it was because of the fairy rings that sprouted at your feet in the woods. It created the windows, the overlap of worlds, and people were walking in and not coming out. You didn't know how to stop it, never did. If this place was truly a supernatural persons territory. Perhaps there were those more knowledgeable than you on this. Perhaps there were others like you, nymphs who understood and controlled their reality, lest your guardian really started communicating. Something you didn't count on.

Your rest was tinged with excitement and anxiety. You could use this information to deduce who was a supernatural and who wasn't in a way. All you had to do was see how people reacted to your presence. It was all in the eyes. Those two boys in class, they had barely paid any attention to you, and your mind wondered what they could be. What kind of creatures inhabited Beacon Hills? Were they fae friendly? What if they found out the recent disappearances were because of you? How would they react? Would they help, or would they hunt you as well?

This morning, you skipped reading and headed straight for class sitting in the back again. As students poured in the class, you looked for the faces you had become familiar with but only saw one. Stiles entered and threw his bag down on the seat next to him in front of you. You pretended not to notice as he stole glances at you over his shoulder. You were in class, but he was studying you, your every move. As uncomfortable as this made you, it was nice as it wasn't paired with the crazy eyes that usually came with those glances. He seemed nice, a welcome feeling.

The professor announced that everyone needed to pair up. This was the worst. You would obviously rather work alone. Before even looking up from your textbook, the boy in front of you 'Stiles' turns around and speaks to you. "Wanna team up? Names Stiles by the way, " he said while turning in his seat and leaning a hand out over the back. You glanced at his face, then to his hand. A look of bewilderment must have crossed your face and been obvious as he immediately shrunk down and pulled his hand back, tightening his lips and shaking his head, mumbling something under his breath.

You had never seen reactions like this from men. They were always so confident in their approaches to you, running off pure pride with a gluttonous need for you. They way he acted was endearing. You felt your face soften as you tried to respond. "Im sorry, im just not used to people being nice to me. Im Y/N. You want to come sit here or me there?" He nearly fell out of seat at the words, frantically scrambling to grab his books and backpack to sit next to you. He did so in a huff before pulling his seat close and settling. You watched in amusement as he picked up items that fell in his haste. He was cute. You felt a smile touch your lips. How long had it been since you could smile? You thought.

After he had sat, he turned to you, saying, "I find it hard to believe no one's nice to you." he said in an awkwardly flirtacious way. "Really?" You say. "Have you not heard what people say about me? How certain people look at me?" His face went blank, and he looked away as if thinking of a response. He stammered. "Well, I think some people are bored... and being new and so uh... yeah... uh yeah, they're just you know, dumb." A smile crossed your face. "Wow, truer words have never been spoken," you chuckled sheepishly.

You two spent the rest of class working on an electrophoresis lab stealing glances at each other. The casing kept leaking buffer. You joked about the electric current, possibly shocking you, knowing it wouldn't. Electricity acted differently around you. Still, he took the lead, sensing your apprehension masked as a dark joke and carefully connected the currents. It was straightforward and pretty simple after that, yet you struggled with measurements for whatever reason. Perhaps it was molecule size. No matter what you thought. His presence was reassuring. He spoke kindly to you. You found yourself wanting to scoot closer but holding back. He was adorable, the way he focused when working sticking his tongue out as his thoughts coalesced into words on a page. You watched in admiration. You haven't liked a guy like this in so long, always avoiding that potential pain, not wanting to put yourself or others in danger again. There was just something different about him.

"So, i heard you talking with your friend yesterday about the missing students. What do you think happened?" His eyes widened, and you immediately felt intrusive. "Yeah, you uh, heard that, huh? Well, it's been sort of an 'ongoing' issue. My friends and I are just trying to get to the bottom of it before it's one of us, " he said while tapping his pencil to the desk, head cooked, and a thousand yard stare. "I hope you find them." You spoke thoughtfully in a hushed tone. You felt the weight of your words as they left your lips. You felt terrible, but knew there was nothing you could do except maybe move again. But you were starting to like it here. That was always the way it went. Even if this place did feel different.

You watched him, his mannerisms. Trying to figure out what he was, how he withstood the urge so many have around you. He fawned over you. Sure, you could tell he had an attraction. You could see it in how you made him act, how he reacted to you and around you. You had gotten really good at reading people. He was a bit harder to read just because you weren't used to this behavior, so far from the norm you had adjusted to for so long. After having dealt with false attraction many times before, you could tell he was genuine. This is just how he was. Silly, awkward, caring, and kind. It was refreshing. It almost felt unreal, the conversation flowed, and there were no innuendos or comments about your body or beauty. It was like a breath of fresh air. He was boisterous and cracked jokes. His humor dry, sometimes dark. You found yourself laughing, actually laughing with him. He was sweet, funny, charismatic even, and his smile made you melt.

It was tricky, knowing your nature, you could be just as entranced with the humans as they were with you, however dangerous it could be. But you could feel your longing within you like a being of its own, inhabiting your mind, body, and spirit. Begging for the day to see the light. That day so far, has not come. With age, that desire only grew, causing friction within the confines of your own mind.

The bell rang, and you gathered your things when his voice spoke out. "Hey, do you wanna come over after school today and study? Maybe work on some of this stuff? I could uh, really use the help." You examined his expression, feeling uneasy and not fully trusting his intentions. Yet, you found yourself nodding in agreement despite your ever-present worries and fears. His face remained as it did when he asked you, eye brows raised, lips parted, awaiting your response as he shifted his books in his hands and straightened his backpack straps. "Yeah? Ok, yeah." He said in surprise. "I live just a block over from you. Meet me after school?" A block from me? How did he know, did he follow you yesterday? You shrug your shoulders, pushing your thoughts back. "Sure sure," you mumble. As if sensing your trepedation, he blurted out, "My dads the sheriff. So, you dont have to worry or anything... if you are... worried," he fidgeted, turning his head rubbing his face in frustration as if he embarrassed himself. He avoided eye contact with you, and stammered when he spoke to you, perhaps your presence did make him uncomfortable, but it was in a way you haven't seen before, not in any type of hypnotized state. It intrigued you. You found yourself excited at the thought of a friend possibly, maybe more?

It felt intimate. He was inviting you to his home. Just you two. Was this a date? You'd never been on one, never being asked sincerely, so you always declined. It's easier to avoid disappointment, right? Especially if it could have led to your potential assault or possible death. There were creatures out there that wanted to kill people like you. Something you still didn't fully understand but remained aware of that potential danger. No one has ever wanted to spend time with you other than to possess you. You had to see what it was like and took full advantage of that opportunity. You thought, why not? His dads the sheriff, what's the worst that could happen? You didn't finish that thought because you already knew but hoped for a better outcome this time.

Stiles had handed you a folded note with four numbers scrawled across the inside. His home address he lamented. "Look for the blue jeep," he said as you left for home. You wanted to drop some things off before heading over. Make yourself presentable. You never wanted nor ever needed to dress any other way than comfortable. You weren't even sure you had anything that could be considered cute or attention getting. You changed, opting for a pair of black joggers, white sneakers, and a white tank top. The only thing you had that was somwhat revealing, but only in the way it fit your shape and peeked out with a bit of cleavage. Everything you owned was to avert the male gaze. You felt bold wearing it. You felt actually comfortable, not like the loose fabric you normally hung from your slender frame. You threw on a black pullover hoodie to cover yourself. Force of habit, plus, there were still people outside your home you would rather avoid. Knowing that loose clothing was a ruse, truly no one even needed to look at you to be pulled into your gravity. If you were close to them, they felt they needed you.

You walked over, breathing shallowly, not knowing what to expect, but a feeling of anticipation laced each step you took until you reached his front door. You reach a hand up while your mind second guessed whether you should be doing this or not. Your knuckles rapped on the wood four times. You took a step back to wait. You could hear Stiles somewhere inside yelling he was coming, followed by running steps that got louder as they crashed towards the door. The door swung open inwards, Stiles stood with his arm extended, out of breath but smiling.

You timidly raise a hand in a shy wave, feeling like you interruped him in the middle of something. "H-Hey. Come in." He led you through a hall to a room in the back on the left. His room presumably. He stepped in first clutching papers and books off the surface of his discheveled looking bed. "Sorry, I was trying to clean this all up before you got here," he said while trying to collect all the items at once. "That's ok," you respond. "Wow, you really do study a lot, huh?" You said. There were school books on his bed as to be expected, but there were a few interesting choice books you observed him quickly put away out of your view on a shelf behind him. "Weird World Compendium, Cryptozoology 101, and one titled Lycanthropy." Surely he didn't get those from the library. Perhaps it was some sort of project. You tried not to think too hard about it after what your guardian had said. This place was supernaturally charged. Maybe some humans were interested in that sort of thing. Although in your experience it's always been a topic that's more hush-hush.

You sat cross-legged in the spot on his bed he had cleared off and smoothed over for you. Settling in and opening your backpack to bring out your notebook. He sat next to you on the opposite side of the bed, legs outstretched as he placed a book and notes in his lap, searching through the papers. While he gathered his notes, you took the time to take off your hoodie, lifting your arms to pull it up off over your head. It pulled your hair tie out in the process. When you pulled it off fully, your hair covered your face, falling in long locks about your face. You brushed them away, smoothing your hair back as it fell to the sides of your face. You looked for your scrunchie in your hoodie where it must've gotten tangled. When you found it and went to put it on your wrist, you looked up to see him staring at you. A perplexed look tinged with want. It's as if he was looking at a beautiful deadly creature. Scared, yet highly intrigued. You watched his eyes scan your body until he met your eyes, and immediately, he turned beet red. You could feel your face flush as well. Both of you averted your gaze. Too self concious to address the tension in the air. So you both continued on studying like nothing happened. Engaging in light conversation and school talk. The actual studying only lasted a half hour.

You two went over your notes together quickly and then started talking. A few things that caught your attention that he said were about the woods, something about the history of the woods in Beacon Hills, super vague. Although he was cryptic as well, like there was some truth he was holding back. He asked about your move and why you chose Beacon Hills, "the weirdest place you could have chosen," he'd said. You told him your family who you stayed with moved a lot for work. A lie. You had no family, just your guardian, that and you would never truly divulge the reasoning. You'd sound insane to any somwhat sane person. Stiles seemed to be a sane person, a very hyperactive one, and a total smartass, but sane nonetheless. You enjoyed his energy, really, so you didn't want him not to like you. A thought you've never thought before. Perhaps he knew more than he let on. After all, he did talk about helping his friends find the people that went missing. You knew he wouldn't even know where to start unless he had some sort of supernatural inkling. Perhaps that's why he was able to still remain himself around you.

You stood to stretch, arching your back and sliding your hands down your backside as you did, trying to crack out a few knots from sitting on the bed. There was a large empty whiteboard in his room that was pretty hard to miss. Curiosity stole your attention away from him as you wanted to see what was on the other side, if anything. As he went to put his notes away, he looked up to see you flip the board. It was covered in intertwined strings, pictures, and what looked like newspaper clippings. It looked like complete chaos. You stepped closer to observe the images only to see a picture of you, images of the fairy rings, and old articles from schools you attended in the past. "Teen incites crowd violence at UNI leading to fire," one had read. Another stated, "At risk youth terrorizes fremont school district and local community" and "Local youth suspected in missing peoples case and 10 year cold case involving family disappearance." mentally, you remark at the headlines. They were all about you, your past, and they were not only wrong and super sensationalized, but outright mean you thought.

A look of worry and lost hope immediately plagued your features. Survival instinct kicked back in, and you were immediately aware of the bad decision you had made. Your heart began to race, and your palms got clamy. You could feel a low humm of electricity burning from within. He knew it was you, how easily you fell for it this time. Shame and fear filled the pit in your stomach. Stiles saw you remarking at his 'crime board'. He immediately went to try and grab the articles off to cover the evidence he had infact been following you. Researching your past. Why? Did he want you dead like some? The thoughts raced through your mind in a blur of negativity. Is that why he was asking the questions he was? Realistically, and even more painful, was the realization that he knew it was you or had something to do with you. The reason people were missing people he knew.

"No, no no no. It's not what it looks like. Just. Just let me explain," he insisted. You had turned to him with the article stating, "Menace linked to missing people," with tears welling in the corners of your eyes. It felt like betrayal. These feelings you were so used to and built yourself up to avoid, here again. Because you dropped your guard! "What are you?" You asked. "How are you like this? Are you a satyr? A changeling?!" You all but screamed at him. Fear, clear, and present in your voice. You were scared and hurt. He stood frozen looking at you, mouth agape. He tried to speak, unable to find the words. How could he be shocked at your reaction, you thought. The evidence was here, all of it, his research on you and the "portals" he talked to his friend about. It was embarrassing, demoralizing, and hurtful. "Uh-im..im a human being," he spoke in a broken sentence, unsure how to respond to that question. Human? How? How could he be, knowing what he knows? You look up from the article in your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks. Presented with everything you had tried so hard to get away from. "Why did you invite me here?" You spoke through breathy gasps. "I thought for once someone actually liked me. So I'll just go," you said in a hushed breath. You dropped the paper and turned for the door when you felt his hand on your arm.

"Dont go." He said defeatedly. You turned to face him, to confront him. "I-I do like you. Okay? I do. I just didn't know how to say it, to tell you, i'm scared." He said, stepping closer to you and grabbing your shaking hands. "Please let me explain." You looked up at him examiningly. Taking stock of his features, observing his body language. He appeared to be truly apologetic, especially when confronted with your tears. You quickly wiped them away, no weakness to be seen. "You do?" You said, seeking his validation and reassurance. "Why?" You asked. The question perplexed him. Why wouldn't anyone like you? They all did, well, only in that possessive way.

"Why?" He repeated, chuckling nervously as you tried holding his gaze. He would look down, then back seeing you were still looking into him."Yeah, why? You see all this about my past. People are disappearing around me, right? Why would you like me at all?" You questioned him. "Look, I can tell you put on a hard front, but when we were working together, I could see that wasn't who you were. I was cautious sure, a lot of crazy stuff happens here, you have no idea. I'm just trying to help my friends, I thought what I was doing was right, and I thought you could help." he said candidly. He spoke calmly and directly, unlike his usual cadence, taking your feelings seriously. "So what did you find out?" You ask him, gesturing to the board. Tone still firm yet softening. "That you're not what people say you are. That you are not those articles. And yes, youre fucking gorgeous". He gestured at you. "but youre kind, and... good."

His words poured over your fresh wounds like a pain killer. Numbing the hurt, a lovely feeling. You looked him in the eyes, a gaze he returned purposefully. "Im sorry i hurt you, it wasn't my intention, and I will take all the time you need to explain everything, you desrve that." The words he spoke were foreign to you. An apology. Bare minimum, but something you've never received in all your past traumas. Not once did anyone take the time to validate and quell your negative feelings they caused.

Without thought and acting upon pure emotion, you leaned in and kissed him. Pressing your lips hard to his. You pull away just as quickly. Too forward, too much you think to yourself. What have you done? You look to observe his face his reaction. His eyes still closed, and his lips still perched. After a moment, realizing you pulled away, he opens his eyes and looks down at you. Letting go of your hands he steps forward to you once more, leaving no space between you. He grabs your face a palm on either cheek and pulls you in for another kiss. Returning your affections heartily.

He pushes himself against you, holding your face in his hands as your lips continue to collide, tongues roaming and exploring, teeth clashing as he breathes heavily through his nose. A soft moan escapes your mouth as you bring your arms around his neck. He then slid his hands behind your back, pulling you closer to him. You reveled in his embrace. It's so warm and inviting. There was no pressure, no obsession. It felt natural, a feeling never shared with a human before, or any being for that matter you thought.

Something came over you, or rather melted away. The fear, the worry about being around him, all but vanished in his embrace. It didn't feel forced or like possession. Just pure chemistry. Your kiss led you to the edge of his bed where your knees buckled and you fell backward. You grabbed Stiles' hand, pulling him on top of you. He was clearly nervous but happy and more than willing to participate, his breathing was fast, hands shakey as he placed one on the side of your shoulder and grabbed under your thigh with the other raising your leg up.

He spread your legs apart with his knees, scooting closer. He continued kissing you, circling your toungue with his. The electricity in your core buzzed furiously beckoning to you in unintelligible whispers. Everything spun out of control so quickly. His hands roaming your body, lightly caressing your abdomen, sliding his fingers underneath your top. His fingers left traces of vibration on your skin. You wondered if he could feel it, too. The exhiliration filled your senses, taking over rational thought as your hands roamed his body. You could feel the stillness in his pants as your soft movements brushed up against him, eliciting small gasps of breath through his teeth.

He stopped suddenly, pulling away. You looked on pleadingly, searching his face for a reason. His face was soft as he expressed concern. "Only if you want this," he said. You nodded almost as he spoke, sitting up on your elbows and meeting him with another kiss. "I do, please," you said with eybrows raised and puffy glistening lips. He relaxed and leaned into the kiss once more, pushing himself against you.

You put both hands under his sweater. He quickly shrugged it off his head, pulling it from his shoulders. You lifted up your tank top, sliding it off as he did, then unhooked your bra, dropping it to the floor next to the bed carlessly. When he looked back down, a smile curled on his lips before biting them and returning to kissing you. He took a moment to bury his face between your breasts, inhaling you deeply before using his tongue to lap at your hardened nipples, the cold air on your wet skin making you shiver under his touch.

The heat rising in your body matched the warmth in your psyche. A true gentleman he had been. Asking for consent was unheard of for you. Most just took what they wanted, turning you off of the whole idea of intimacy. But Stiles was different. You felt yourself softening under his touch. His words soothed the darkest corners of your abused mind.

His body was ridgid and warm against your torso. You could feel goosebumps rise across the flesh you touched upon his back. He quivered with every embrace. Your hand slipped down to his waistband, where his belt sat. You slip a finger just inside, trailing it against his skin left to right as you gently tug. He meets your gaze, and you smile up at him innocently. He quickly stood once more, chucking off his shoes carlessly. One landed on his desk, and the other hit the wall. You chuckled lightly. He was so eager. As he gathered his bearings to pull his pants down, you grabbed hold. "Let me," you say while grabbing his hands. He nodded in agreement, running his fingers through your hair as he curiously watched.

You undo his belt and pull the strap through each belt loop until it hits the floor, followed by the button, then the zipper until you pulled down his pants to reveal him. His boxers stood tented. He sucked in a breath as you slid the pants over his length. You could see partially through the hole in the boxers that his hardness exaggerated, almost poking out. You removed them carefully, sliding them down to the floor. His length stood at full attention and laid against his abdomen, a burning red. You run a hand over his chest, moving down and tracing the lines on his hips that led to his cock. He twitched under your touch, so did his cock. Perhaps it tickled.

You looked up at him as you claimed him, holding him firm within your grasp. His hands moved to the back of your head where he gathered your hair into one hand. You watched his reaction as you ran your tongue across the tip, collecting the precum that had coated him. His jaw dropped as he gasped at your intimate touch, eyes watching in awe as you took him into your mouth. You circled your tongue around his head before pushing further down, forcing him past your lips. Coming up and then forcing him down again, stretching your throat and causing you to gag. Tears streamed down your face as he began pushing you further onto him, wrapping your hair in his fist as his other hand held lightly under your chin, caressing your throat. He met every movement of yours with his own thrust. Drool began seeping from the corners of your mouth before dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

He pulled your head back, his hand still intertwined in your hair. His other hand grabbed your chin, using his thumb to wipe the drool from your face. He then slid his finger into your mouth, rubbing your tongue and pushing on it before moving his other finger inside, shoving them in and out of your mouth as you helplessly looked up at him. You heard a low hum form in his chest before he placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you down gently. You follow his lead, sliding back just enough to give him space to put his knees between you.

Stiles scooted between your legs, using his hands to grip the seam of your panties and pull them downward and off of your legs. Slipping them so softly off of your body, placing them on the bed beside him. He then grabbed your hips, pulling you flush against him, his length stood at your entrance. Pushing against your slit, covering him in your slick as he leaned in for a kiss.

You prop yourself onto your elbows, meeting his lips with your own. His length throbbing against you, you found yourself slowly grinding against it. Wanting him more than you've ever wanted anyone in your life ever. The passion and intesnse pressure burning you from within. You felt a deep pressure well within you, an unstoppable urge to fulfill.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling him nearly penetrate you. A soft moan escaped your lips as he reached down and guided himself to you. Slowly forcing his way in. As he pushed himself inside, your walls began to grip him. "Fuuuck," he whispered. He had to push harder as you tried to accept him. You cry out, and he looks at you with concern. "No, it's ok, feels sgood" You manage to speak in broken words as he begins to slowly thrust himself in and out of you. His eyes watched you almost with fascination as you squirmed beneath him, meeting every thrust of his with your own bucking motion. Wanting more. You felt the room get lighter. Everything took on a hazy ethereal glow with flickers of light that looked like stars as he pounded into you, increasing his speed and strength with every thrust.

Each push, sending you closer and closer over the edge. You looked him in his eyes as he shoved himself heartily into you. Pawing at your breasts, squeezing the flesh through his balmy hands. Small breathy moans would escape his trembling lips. You pulled his face close to yours, gazing into eachothers eyes as he filled you. Marveling at his expressions, how his face tightened with every thrust, how he gritted his teeth and persed his lips. He kissed your chest and neck, causing you to moan loudly from sheer lust.

He had reached for your panties that lay beside him, crumpling them up and stuffing them in your mouth. "My dad will be home soon, we have to be quiet," you nodded, letting him know you understood. You were being very loud after all. No fault of your own, just the sounds he elicited out of you from the pleasure he provided. He began pounding furiously, you cried out in muffled moans behind your soaked panties. Looking up at him as he continued with eyes of want.

Your body felt light, like you were floating. His eyes never left your face as he grunted softly with each push. Your skin tingled and buzzed with vibration, nothing you have ever felt before. He watched as your eyes beamed light from within, a sparkling like a galaxy within your pupils. A buzzing concentrating in your back and shoulders. You could feel it slowly lift from your skin as what looked like stars erupted from your shoulders glittering behind you into the bed sheets and filling room, hovering in ace.

You pull the panties from your mouth, tossing them somewhere within the room. Waves of pleasure began crashing over you as you approached your climax. Stiles remained streadfast, unabated by your sudden supernatural display. "S-Stiles, im gonna cu," you gasped. "Please, dont st-stop," you pleaded, looking deeply into his eyes. His face was a look of pure concentration, grimacing with every thrust that filled you. Your body began to shudder beneath him. His cock trembling and twitching within you as ropes of his essence spasmed within you with every forceful push. Your orgasm bringing him to his own. You wrapped your legs tighter around him as your body convulsed, your walls contracting around his pulsating length. You could feel his warmth fill you as his eyes rolled back and a low deep moan coalesced from his throat. Stiles' room, for a brief moment when your orgasm was most intense, had been glowing, all you could see was him, behind him was almost otherworldly.

The room had filled with the stars that emenated from your shoulder blades. Flickering and twinkling out one by one. They shined like small spheres of light, emitting streams of light out in every direction before fading into what looked like the flicker of a flame and dissapating completely. You had never seen this before, a shock to you, and you were sure it'd shock Stiles, too, if he wasn't already preoccupied. You're sure you'd have to explain later... if you could find the words.

Stiles lay on top of you, exhausted and breathing heavy. You lightly caressed his head he again shivered under your touch and smiled, eyes closed against your chest. You watched as his head rose and fell with each breath you took. "Y/N," he sofly spoke, a large grin painting his face. "You're so beautiful," he said euphorically. "Best sex ever," he said as he slipped off you and lay beside you. You giggled at his rhetoric. "So, I feel like there's something you want to tell me." He spoke once more. How could you even begin to explain what happened when you weren't quite sure yourself. You've never had this happen, but you've also never had consensual sex that you initiated. There was still so much to learn about yourself and what you were.

"Well, if you've got time, I guess I'll just start from the beginning. Starting with me being a Nymph," you said hesitantly. His eyes widened slightly, staring at you in disbelief, "A nymph! Like a fairy deity... Nymph?!" He stammered. "Why didn't I think of that?" he said jokingly to himself. "Uh yeah, I guess, I really dont know much about it, though. I didn't even know I could do... that" you said. "But I'll tell you everything I know. I'll help you find them if I can. I promise," you declared. He looked on, eyes half lidded. "I had sex with a god," he said, staring at you, ignoring everything else you said. You looked into his eyes as he searched yours, moving a strand of hair away from your face. "You'll have to tell me more when the blood rushes back from other areas," he said playfully. "Ok, one more thing though, they're called windows, not portals." You said tongue in cheek. "Really? What's the problem with portals?" he jested, kissing your forhead.

#stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #stiles x oc #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x fem!reader #ao3 #pink dream ganja queen #mtv teen wolf #stiles silinski x supernatural fem reader #smut

199 notes · View notes

darkintothedawn · 8 days ago

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — It's Stiles' birthday and you decide to play a great indoor scavenger hunt along side his dad to celebrate it.

Memo— This is kinda bad and weird but wtv! My google docs keeps autocorrecting everything to the American spelling and that's a level of editing I do not have the motivation for.

Word Count — 7786

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

You never thought you’d be the type to conspire with a sheriff, but here you were—crouched behind the kitchen island of the Stilinski household with a roll of duct tape, two packs of command strips, and a small mountain of LED tea lights. Sheriff Noah Stilinski stood beside you, hands on his hips, eyes darting toward the window every few minutes like he was expecting someone to pull into the driveway mid-glitter-splosion.

"Are you sure he’s gonna be out long enough for this?" you whispered, taping a gold-edged clue card to the side of the fridge.

Noah raised a brow. "He’s with Scott. That means there's at least one detour to a comic book store and an intense debate about the best Star Wars trilogy. You’ve got time."

You smiled to yourself, heart warming at the image of Stiles animatedly ranting about plot inconsistencies while Scott pretended to follow. It was exactly why you loved him—unapologetically nerdy, wildly passionate, and so easy to adore in every way.

You looked around at the mess of craft supplies, fairy lights, and the now half-completed “adventure route” you’d mapped out through the Stilinski home. The plan was simple: a scavenger hunt made just for Stiles, based on memories you’d shared and inside jokes no one else would get. Each clue would lead him to a different room, each with a small gift, a photo, or a note from you—something that whispered, “I see you. I know you. I love you.”

"Okay," you said, laying out the next few clue cards in a careful line across the dining table. "Station two is the couch. That’s where we fell asleep watching The Princess Bride after pretending we didn’t like rom-coms."

Noah chuckled, leaning over to stick a photo strip of the two of you—taken at a rickety fairground photo booth—next to the couch’s armrest. "He told me he only stayed awake through that movie because you were resting your head on his shoulder."

You grinned. "He’s full of it. He quoted like half the movie."

The Sheriff smiled at that, shaking his head fondly. “You know,” he said softly, “he hasn’t shut up about you since the day you met. Even when I’m trying to watch the game.”

That made your chest ache in the best way. You paused a moment, absorbing that, then quickly ducked your head before emotion ruined your timeline.

“Okay, okay, back to work before I get all sappy and start crying into the fairy lights.”

With a snort, Noah grabbed a handful of battery-powered candles and helped you line the hallway. You arranged them like breadcrumbs leading down toward the final “treasure” room—Stiles' bedroom, which you’d temporarily claimed and transformed. You’d swapped out his usual Star Wars bedding for crisp new sheets in navy blue, added a cozy pile of pillows to the bed, and lit more soft lights around the room to make it feel like a sanctuary.

At the foot of the bed, you placed the last envelope: a handwritten note with the words, “For your eyes only.” Inside it, a love letter. Honest, messy, a little goofy—just like the two of you.

And on his desk sat your final gift. Not expensive, not flashy, but meaningful—a scrapbook filled with memories, polaroids, receipts from midnight milkshake runs, ticket stubs from your first horror movie date, and even a page dedicated to the time you both got drenched during a summer thunderstorm and ended up dancing in the street.

You looked at it all, then turned to Noah.

"I think… I think he’s gonna love it."

The sheriff gave you a long look—kind, warm, the kind that saw everything without having to say much. "He’s gonna lose his damn mind."

You smiled through the lump in your throat.

As you tucked the final clue under a cushion on the living room couch and set the playlist to something soft and low, you felt a flutter in your chest—not from nerves, but from knowing that, for once, it was just going to be you and him. No pack emergencies, no monsters or magical curses—just Stiles and the kind of love that glows warm like fairy lights, steady like candlelight, and comfortable like home.

And really, wasn’t that the best kind of magic?

You barely had time to blink before your phone buzzed with a message from Scott: "Headed back now. He won’t shut up about his birthday theory. I think he suspects aliens."

Classic Stiles.

Your eyes widened as you spun toward Noah. “That’s the cue. Time to evacuate, Sheriff.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright, I know when I’m no longer needed.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the dining chair, casting one last glance around the transformed space. “You really pulled it off. He’s gonna love it. And if he doesn’t cry, I’m demanding a DNA test.”

You laughed as you walked him to the door. “If he doesn’t cry, I will. So someone’s shedding a tear tonight.”

With a final wink, he stepped outside and you quickly shut the door behind him. Heart thudding, you reached into your hoodie pocket and pulled out the final touch—a folded note in your own messy handwriting, sealed with a little doodle of a cartoon bat (because, of course, Stiles once swore your first date was interrupted by a vampire, and the joke just never died).

You taped it right to the center of the front door. "Welcome Home, Birthday Boy. The Game is Afoot. -Your Soon to Be Betrothed" Below that, a tiny arrow pointing down toward the doormat where you’d placed Clue #1.

You took one last sweep of the house, heart rattling against your ribs like a caged thing. Everything was in place—the photos, the tiny trail of lights, the ambient music playing low on the Bluetooth speaker. His favorite hoodie of yours draped casually on the back of the couch, just in case he missed it (which he wouldn’t). Even the snack tray in the kitchen with his beloved sour gummy worms and blue Gatorade was right there waiting.

And then—go time.

You bolted for his bedroom, nerves sparking like static under your skin. In the closet, you’d already cleared out a little corner—just enough room to crouch down behind his jackets and slide the door mostly shut, letting just a sliver of light in from the room beyond.

As you ducked into your hiding spot, pulse in your throat, you stifled a giggle. This was ridiculous. And perfect.

You could already picture the expression on his face—the way his brows would knit together at the first clue, that focused little squint he got when he was in “mystery mode.” You imagined the amused eye-roll when he realized it was you orchestrating the hunt, not some cryptic supernatural threat. He’d roll his eyes. He’d mutter something sarcastic.

And then he’d smile. That soft, crooked smile—the one he only ever gave you, like he couldn’t believe he got to have you.

You hugged your knees to your chest, the closet suddenly feeling impossibly warm. Your palms were sweating. Your stomach fluttered so hard it felt like you’d swallowed a flock of birds.

But it wasn’t fear. Not even close.

It was the anticipation of seeing him—just him. Your favorite person, your ridiculous, rambling, brilliant mess of a boyfriend, walking through the door completely unaware of what you’d put together.

And for once, there were no monsters waiting. Just love. Just home.

Just you.

You held your breath as you heard the distant sound of tires crunching gravel in the driveway. A car door slam. Footsteps.

He was here.

And the game had begun.

Stiles was mid-rant when he stepped out of the Jeep, his phone still in hand as he dramatically pointed it toward Scott, who was already halfway down the sidewalk.

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice carrying, “if there were a secret government facility under the Beacon Hills library, they wouldn’t make it obvious. That’s literally the point of secret government facilities. You hide them under places no one wants to go. Like—like DMV buildings. Or vegan juice bars.”

Scott didn’t even respond. He just threw him a knowing look over his shoulder and gave a casual, two-fingered salute before disappearing around the corner.

“Traitor,” Stiles muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket as he turned toward the house.

And paused.

There was something taped to the front door.

Something that did not look like an official document, a threat, or a “you left your socks on the stairs again and I almost died” message from his dad.

It was a note.

With your handwriting.

And right at the bottom corner, a doodle of a bat wearing sunglasses.

He stared at it for a full five seconds before reaching up and peeling it off, eyes scanning the words.

"Welcome Home, Birthday Boy. The Game is Afoot. —Your Soon to Be Betrothed"

He blinked.

Read it again.

“…Betrothed?” he echoed, voice cracking just a little as the word left his mouth like it had weight, like it had history, like it was something he wasn’t supposed to think about unless he was proposing on a windswept balcony with a bouquet of ring pops.

His ears went red.

He felt it happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He stood there like an idiot, note still in hand, staring at it with a weird, fluttery smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and absolutely no idea what to do with his face.

You were ridiculous. Absolutely deranged. Probably legally dangerous. He was also 100% going to marry you one day.

“Betrothed,” he muttered again, this time with the kind of breathy half-laugh that only happened when his brain was glitching out. “That’s not even legal at sixteen. That’s—that’s a medieval term. What are we, eloping in a fantasy novel?”

He glanced down at the doormat, where a small envelope sat perfectly aligned in the center.

“Oh god,” he whispered, picking it up. “It’s a scavenger hunt.”

His heart did a little cartwheel.

He should’ve known. Of course you wouldn’t just say happy birthday like a normal person. No. You’d weaponize his love of puzzles and drama and create an entire game just to lead him around the house like some kind of lovesick Holmesian idiot.

He folded the note carefully, as if it were priceless, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans before opening the envelope.

Inside was Clue #1, written in the same familiar, slightly chaotic scrawl:

"Where we spend Sunday mornings and pretend the world doesn’t exist. Your first present is waiting."

He grinned so hard his face hurt.

The couch.

Definitely the couch.

As he stepped into the house, quietly closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help the way his fingers brushed the edge of the note again—like he needed to make sure it was still there.

“Betrothed,” he muttered one last time, shaking his head as he made his way toward the living room, blushing to his ears. “God, I’m so screwed.”

The second Stiles stepped inside, the door clicking softly shut behind him, he was hit with something that made his chest tighten—not fear, not even surprise, but this weird, achy, full kind of warmth that felt like it expanded in his lungs and pushed all the air out.

The house was quiet.

But not empty.

Somewhere deeper inside, from a speaker you’d clearly stashed out of sight, a soft instrumental track floated through the air—something mellow, dreamy. It wasn’t one of those cheesy love songs, nothing dramatic or with sweeping lyrics. It was gentle. Almost like a lullaby. Familiar, too. Something you’d played on repeat during late-night study sessions when the world outside got too loud and Stiles needed something to ground him.

He didn’t realize he’d stopped moving until he blinked and noticed his fingers flexing against the envelope in his hand.

The living room came into view, golden from the lazy trail of LED tea lights that lined the floor and curled around furniture legs like little constellations. And there—draped over the back of the couch like it had always lived there—was your hoodie. His favorite one. The oversized black one with the sleeves stretched out from where you tugged on them when you were nervous. The one that smelled like your shampoo and faintly of candy because you always forgot what was in your pockets.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Within seconds, he was sliding it on like muscle memory. It swallowed him whole in the best way. The weight of it was soft and familiar, and the scent—God, it was you. Warm and real and here, even if you weren’t technically in the room.

He tugged the hood up over his buzzed hair, exhaling through a dazed grin, arms crossed loosely over his chest like he could hold the moment still just by squeezing hard enough.

“…Okay,” he mumbled, dragging himself back to reality, “focus, Stilinski. You’re not actually gonna melt into a pile of hoodie-scented goo. You’ve got a clue to find. A game to solve. A… future spouse to locate.”

His ears flushed again.

He turned toward the couch cushions, heart still hammering a little too fast, and immediately spotted what had to be the next piece.

There, nestled between the throw pillows, sat two polaroids and another envelope—this one decorated with yet another doodle, this time of a little ghost holding a heart. You’d drawn little motion lines around it like it was zooming.

He picked up the photos first, holding them up to the light.

The first one was you, caught mid-sneeze—eyes half-lidded, mouth open in some in-between curse-word-turned-sneeze expression. Stiles snorted so hard he almost dropped it.

The second one?

Him. Kissing your cheek.

You were trying to look annoyed, like you hadn’t just combusted from the contact—but your face had gone this perfect, brilliant shade of pink and your nose was scrunched up in that way that made his stomach do a completely unprovoked somersault.

He let out a breath through his nose, all fondness and fuzz.

“I cannot believe you kept the sneeze one,” he said to no one, because no one was around, but it didn’t matter. His voice still felt full of you.

Then he reached for the envelope.

It was wedged just slightly between the two photos, as if guarded. As if the memories themselves were protecting the next step.

He turned it over in his hands, thumbs brushing the tiny ghost.

Inside, he already knew—another piece of the trail. Another little puzzle, written in your voice.

And God, he’d never been more excited to chase something in his life.

The envelope crinkled just slightly as Stiles slid a careful finger beneath the flap, trying not to tear the ghost drawing. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was pretty sure he was going to keep all of these clues forever. Probably in a shoebox. Or maybe under his bed. Or framed. Shut up, it didn’t matter.

Inside, the second clue was written in the same pen—black gel, slightly smudged in places like you'd gone too fast, or maybe your hand had been shaking. Or sweating. Cute.

He unfolded the note and read aloud in a low murmur, the kind he only used when it was just him and no one was listening:

“For the next treasure, go where the contraband lives. Where the ‘we’re just getting water’ lie always gives. Behind the Wheat Thins and dad’s ‘secret’ stash, Lurks the next memory, plus a little sugar dash. (And yes, I drew you as a chocolate wizard. You’re welcome.)”

Stiles stared at it for a second. Then laughed.

“Chocolate wizard,” he repeated, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous, most you phrase he’d ever heard. Which—honestly—was saying something.

He moved quickly now, feet padding down the hall with the kind of focused energy he usually reserved for crime scenes or trivia contests. The kitchen greeted him with the same quiet warmth as the rest of the house, dim lights casting soft shadows against the countertops. The playlist from the speaker was still going, shifting now into some kind of twinkly piano cover of a Bowie song, and it made everything feel extra surreal—like he’d stepped into a memory that hadn’t happened yet.

He didn’t hesitate as he approached the tall cabinet to the left of the fridge—the one that looked like it held nothing but innocent boxes of cereal and maybe a bottle of olive oil, but was actually Noah Stilinski’s poorly hidden snack vault. He and you had been raiding it since the day you started hanging out after school. “Just grabbing a glass of water,” was code for “stealing half a sleeve of Oreos and sprinting back upstairs like raccoons.”

Stiles opened the cabinet door and immediately reached behind the box of Wheat Thins.

And there it was.

Tucked neatly between a bag of trail mix and a box of Pop-Tarts was another envelope, this one a soft orange, like a sticky note. Drawn on the front in Sharpie was a truly spectacular stick-figure version of Stiles wearing a wizard hat made of chocolate. It even had tiny sparkles around it and a speech bubble that read, “I summon snacks!”

Beneath it, carefully placed and absolutely irresistible, was a small bar of chocolate—his favorite brand, the kind with chili and sea salt he pretended was “too spicy” for Scott but hoarded like gold. He grinned and pocketed it instantly.

And there, sitting beside the envelope, were two more polaroids.

He picked them up, instantly recognizing you in the first one—and wheezed.

“Oh my god.”

It was bad. Not just “oops I blinked” bad, but full mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes half-closed, hair doing that thing where it looked like it was trying to escape your skull. He had no idea when he took it, but judging by the chaos in the background, it was probably during one of your joint snack heists.

“You’re gonna kill me for keeping this,” he whispered fondly, tucking it behind the chocolate wizard clue like he was shielding you from your own humiliation.

Then he looked at the second photo.

And his breath caught just a little.

It was him—caught in profile, lips curved in the kind of rare, relaxed smile that didn’t show up unless he was laughing. His hand was resting just behind your head, clearly mid-ridiculous story, and you—you—were looking up at him, eyes wide, cheeks redder than a sunburn, expression stuck between admiration and utter disbelief that this was your life now.

It looked like a movie still. It looked like the moment someone realizes they’re hopelessly, helplessly in love.

Stiles ran a hand over his buzzed head, hoodie sleeves falling over his fingers. His heart did that stupid thing where it clenched and melted at the same time, like it didn’t know whether to combust or dissolve.

He stared at the photos for a long moment, then at the envelope.

And that’s when he realized it.

The pattern.

One embarrassing photo of you. One shockingly flattering photo of him. A clue. A treat. All nestled in places that meant something—not to everyone, but to you and him. Where you spent time. Hid from the world. Made dumb jokes and even dumber memories.

This wasn’t just a scavenger hunt.

It was a love letter. One with candy and chaos and polaroids instead of punctuation.

He swallowed, still smiling like an idiot as he slid the orange envelope open, more excited than ever for what came next.

Stiles slipped the clue out of the orange envelope, carefully so he didn’t smudge the ink. You’d written it a little more compact this time, like you were trying to contain something that wanted to spill over—like the words had energy in them. Like you had energy in you when you wrote it.

He read it once silently, and then again out loud, his voice quieter now, tinged with something softer. Something warmer.

“You’ve earned a pit stop—something sweet, something blue. Check the tray, take a sip (yes, it’s all just for you). But don’t linger too long—there’s one more place to be. Where your hoodie ends up… when you’re sharing it with me.”

He stood frozen for a beat, blinking at the page.

His lips twitched upward, and his ears flushed in slow motion.

“…Oh,” he said.

Then: “Oh.”

He looked toward the counter like it had suddenly become sacred. And in a way—it kind of had. You’d set it up like a miniature shrine: his favorite snacks laid out on a tray in ridiculous precision (you knew he liked the green gummy worms more than the orange ones), and beside it, an ice-cold bottle of blue Gatorade, the condensation making it look like it had been waiting for him all day.

He approached it like it might vanish if he blinked too hard.

For a second, he just stared—like he couldn’t believe it was real. Like he wasn’t already wearing your hoodie and halfway through a romantic quest you’d handcrafted like the world’s most affectionate cryptid.

Then he reached out, lifted the bottle of Gatorade, and took a slow sip.

And groaned.

“You remembered the exact temperature I like this at. You’re a witch.”

He popped a sour gummy worm into his mouth and grinned around it, high on sugar and something a lot more dangerous—something warm and giddy and intimate that made his knees a little weak.

As he leaned forward to grab another candy, something caught his eye—a flicker of color sticking out just barely from beneath the tray. Like it was peeking.

He slid the tray to the side, revealing another envelope—this one pale pink, with tiny hearts doodled along the bottom, but all lopsided and rushed like you’d done them last-minute.

He picked it up like it was precious. Like it mattered.

Because it did.

The note inside was short. Just two lines. And this time, the writing was different—still you, still messy, but slower. Intentional. Weighted.

“You’ve followed my trail—every sweet, silly part. Now go to your room… and bring your heart.”

There was a tiny arrow pointing downward, and beneath it, one last line, smaller and scribbled faster, like you’d hesitated before writing it at all:

“(And maybe your mouth, too.)”

Stiles blinked.

And then flushed so red it reached the tips of his ears.

He slapped the note lightly against his chest. “You menace.”

But he couldn’t stop smiling. It wouldn’t leave. Not even if he tried. His fingers curled around the note, carefully folding it as his heart raced ahead of him—way ahead.

He looked down the hallway, toward the stairs, toward his room.

And then he was moving.

Stiles’ socked feet barely made a sound as he climbed the stairs, the soft music from downstairs fading behind him like a curtain closing. Every step sent a little tremor through his chest, something giddy and humming, like the notes of a secret song playing just under his skin. The hoodie sleeves covered his hands completely now, and he clutched the last clue tight like it might fly away if he loosened his grip.

At the top of the stairs, he hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the hallway wall like he was steadying himself. The house was still quiet. Not the kind of silence that meant no one was home, but the kind that meant someone was waiting. Holding their breath. Listening.

He turned the corner.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar.

The light was different—softer. Warmer. Golden.

And the second he stepped over the threshold, everything in him stopped.

His room—his chaotic, poster-covered, slightly disastrous room—wasn’t gone, but it was… changed.

Transformed.

The harsh Star Wars bedding he’d probably had since middle school was gone, swapped out for clean, navy-blue sheets that looked like something out of a catalog, smooth and cool and deliberately chosen. His bed—usually a battlefield of mismatched pillows and tangled blankets—was now neat but cozy, layered with extra cushions, a folded knit throw at the end. The string lights above his headboard had been replaced—or maybe just added to—with warm, ambient fairy lights tucked along the walls, giving the entire room a hazy glow, like dusk bottled in glass.

The air smelled faintly like the candle you always lit at your house. Vanilla and cedar and something a little citrusy, like hope.

It didn’t look like a teenager’s room anymore.

It looked like a space made for him. Like you’d gone out of your way to carve a sanctuary out of his chaos. A soft place to land. A secret nest only you and he knew about.

And at the foot of the bed, resting against one of the navy pillows like the center of a constellation, was the final envelope.

This one was thick. Handwritten in bold, unmistakable scrawl. On the front, in looping, nervous letters:

“For your eyes only.”

His throat tightened. He stared at it for a moment, caught between wonder and disbelief, fingers twitching at his sides like they didn’t trust themselves to touch it yet.

Then, slowly, he crossed the room, each step quieter than the last.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, hoodie pooling around his arms, and reached for the envelope like it was sacred.

It was unsealed.

His name was written once, in smaller letters inside the flap. Just Stiles. No nicknames. No jokes. Like you couldn’t make yourself be funny when you wrote it. Like it mattered too much.

He opened it.

Inside, the letter was folded in half. The paper wasn’t lined—just blank, like you hadn’t needed structure to say what you needed to say. His fingers trembled a little as he opened it.

And there it was.

Your handwriting. Real. Tangled. Imperfect.

A love letter.

He could see it before he read a word: little scratch-outs where you’d second-guessed a sentence, arrows pointing to phrases you wanted to add. A tiny doodle in the margin of the two of you—stick-figure versions holding hands, one in a hoodie, the other with a ridiculous crown labeled birthday boy. The kind of letter that wasn’t polished, but was honest. Messy. A little goofy.

Just like the two of you.

He hadn’t even started reading yet, and he was already overwhelmed.

He sat there in the golden light, hoodie sleeves bunched in his lap, a room reshaped by love around him, a letter written by the person who knew him best in his hands.

And for once in his life—

He didn’t have a single word.

Just the kind of smile that doesn’t fade.

Stiles took a breath and finally let his eyes fall to the first line of the letter.

Dear Stiles (aka the light of my life, the smartest idiot I’ve ever met, the reason my standards are ruined forever, and my now-certified birthday boy),

Hi.

I know you’re probably blushing already, and honestly? Good. You deserve to. You deserve to feel like the center of the universe today. Actually, every day, but especially today.

Because here’s the thing: you are so stupidly, wildly, unfairly wonderful.

Like, do you even get how good you are? You’re brilliant (like scary smart—do you remember that time you solved that entire AP Chem problem before class even started and then helped me figure out how to balance basic equations without making me feel like a total moron??), and you’re hilarious (even when your jokes make me groan, I’m laughing inside, don’t lie), and you’ve got this face—this face, Stiles—that has no business being as perfect as it is.

Especially with the buzz cut.

Let’s talk about that for a second. The buzz cut? Criminal. Like, I was not prepared to find out I have a thing for soft hair and sharp jawlines and the back of your neck. You’ve created a monster. I literally cannot concentrate when you tilt your head. You’ve turned me into a flustered cartoon character. Congrats.

But here’s what gets me the most: you care.

You care so hard. About your dad, about Scott, about your friends, about me. You put everything you have into being there for people, even when you’re exhausted or scared or hiding behind one of your thousand sarcastic defense mechanisms. You show up. You’ve always shown up.

Like that day in fourth grade when I tripped over my own shoelace and biffed it in front of the whole playground. Remember that? I was crying, my knee was bleeding, and I’d just dropped my favorite pencil case with the sparkly stars on it. And you—tiny, bony, big-eyed Stiles—ran over like the floor was lava and immediately offered me your sleeve to wipe my face. Your sleeve, Stiles. You didn’t even flinch.

And you helped me up and made some ridiculous joke about gravity having a crush on me and I laughed—through the tears and snot and dirt, I laughed. And we’ve been friends ever since.

If you hadn’t been you in that exact moment, I don’t know where I’d be. Because everything that’s ever made my life better somehow leads back to you.

Which is why I am so damn glad I said yes when you asked me out. Four years later, still you, still me, still a little awkward and a lot in love.

And yeah. I am in love with you.

Head over heels. Hopelessly. Helplessly. Absolutely wrecked by how much I love you.

You make me feel safe and seen and like maybe the world isn’t as terrible as it looks on the news. You make me laugh when I want to cry, and you let me cry when I need to—and you never make me feel bad for either. You just… get me.

And you love me back. Somehow. Which is the biggest miracle of all.

So happy birthday, my soon-to-be-betrothed (yes, I said it again, fight me).

You’re my favorite person I’ve ever met. And the best part is—you’re mine.

Love, always and obnoxiously, Me.

P.S. You should probably go look at your desk now.

Like. Now now.

Stiles stared at the letter for a long, suspended moment after he finished reading.

His heart was hammering. His ears were hot. His eyes were suspiciously damp—but he didn’t move to wipe them. Didn’t blink them away. He just let it happen, let it be, because if there was ever a moment to feel everything all at once, it was this one.

You loved him.

And not in a vague, Hallmark card kind of way. You loved him in full paragraphs. In fourth-grade memories and buzz cut compliments and chaotic margins. You’d wrapped every inch of your heart into that letter, and now it was in his hands, sitting in his lap, warm as if it had just been pulled from your chest.

And somehow—somehow—you’d done more.

He blinked and looked up, your last sentence echoing in his brain like it was shouted down a hallway. P.S. You should probably go look at your desk now.

He turned slowly, standing on legs that were just a little wobbly with awe, and crossed the room toward the desk he barely used except to stack unopened textbooks and doodle when he was supposed to be doing homework.

But tonight?

It looked entirely different.

No clutter. No old gum wrappers or tangled earbuds or loose paperclips. Just one thing.

Centered. Waiting.

A scrapbook.

The cover was simple—matte black with his name on it in silver sharpie, hand-lettered in your slightly crooked handwriting. Around it were tiny white stars, all uneven and scattered, like a little galaxy made just for him. Like you’d tried to fit the whole universe on a spiral-bound cover.

He reached for it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy relics.

The first page creaked open with that satisfying, deliberate sound only thick paper can make—and then he was gone.

There was a photo of the two of you, age eleven, leaning awkwardly against each other, both sunburnt from the county fair, you wearing one of his flannels because you’d spilled cherry slushie on your shirt and Stiles had offered his like a tiny gentleman in cargo shorts.

There was a wrinkled receipt taped beside it—from Eddie’s All-Nite Diner—with a scribble under the $7.50 milkshake charge: “First sugar crash together. Worth it.”

Another page: a movie ticket from the worst horror movie of all time (and your first date), where you’d both screamed at the same exact jump scare and then laughed so hard the old couple two rows behind you told you to leave.

Polaroids were everywhere—messy, out of order, completely perfect. Some were blurry from movement, some captured you mid-blink or him mid-sneeze. But there were just as many soft ones, quiet ones. You tangled in a hoodie that definitely wasn't yours. Stiles grinning with chocolate ice cream on his nose. A close-up of your hands intertwined, his thumb running over your knuckle like a habit he couldn’t quit.

Then came the page he didn’t expect.

The thunderstorm.

You’d captioned it only with: “Stiles + [Your Name] vs. the storm: we lost, and it was the best night ever.”

The photo showed both of you soaked to the bone, standing in the middle of a glowing street, rain caught mid-fall like starlight. He had his hands cupped around your cheeks. You were laughing, mouth open wide, like you couldn’t contain the joy, like nothing had ever felt more right. And behind you, the world was blurred and glowing, caught in the storm with you.

He closed the scrapbook slowly, holding it against his chest like it was a heartbeat.

This wasn’t just a gift. This was everything.

A history. A promise. A celebration. A quiet, hand-built monument to your love, crafted out of scraps and snapshots and scribbles.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t expensive. It didn’t matter that it didn’t come with a receipt or a barcode.

It mattered because it was you. All the best parts of you. And all the parts of him you’d chosen to treasure.

Stiles took a breath, eyes stinging again, and turned toward the door.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, smiling so hard it ached. “You win. Best birthday of all time.”

And then he went to find you.

He turned around with purpose—full of momentum and love and maybe a little bit of sparkling tears still clinging to his lashes. He was ready to go find you, to sprint downstairs or search the house or call your name like a man on a mission.

But he didn’t have to.

Because you were already there.

Standing just a few feet away, leaning awkwardly just in front of the doorway with your hands in the sleeves of his sweatshirt—way too long for you, the hem brushing your thighs. Your legs were bare except for a pair of his sweatpants, rolled at the ankles so you didn’t trip. The sleeves of his hoodie covered your hands entirely, and the drawstrings were pulled unevenly. You looked cozy and rumpled and completely perfect.

His eyes flicked to the closet—open. Your graphic tee (the one with the cartoon cat and the phrase “You’ve got to be kitten me”) was crumpled in a pile on the floor like it had been discarded in a moment of boredom or impatience. Of course. You’d gotten restless waiting for him.

“Hi,” you said softly, and your voice held this shy warmth like maybe you were afraid it would all be too much. “I got bored. And also… your clothes are stupid comfortable, so.”

Stiles made a noise. It wasn’t even a word—just a sound, somewhere between a breath and a choke.

Then he moved.

There was no hesitation, no moment of panic or awkwardness or hesitation like there sometimes was with him. He just stepped forward and grabbed you—arms wrapping tight around your waist, face burying into the crook of your neck like it was the only place he could breathe.

And he cried.

Not a loud, ugly cry. Not sobs.

Just quiet, open, real crying. His shoulders shook a little. His breath hitched against your skin. His hands fisted in the fabric of his own sweatshirt where it hung on your back. He didn’t try to hold it back, didn’t apologize, didn’t ruin it with a joke. He just let it happen.

You held him right back, just as tightly, letting him melt into you like a boy who’d been carrying too much for too long and was only now allowed to fall apart a little.

“I love you,” he whispered into your shoulder, the words muffled and thick. “I love you so much, it hurts, okay? You—god, you did all this. You made this whole day magical and stupidly perfect and—you. You made it you. I don’t even know what I did to deserve you, but—holy shit—I love you.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just held him, one hand moving up to thread through the tiny bristles of his buzzcut, the other anchoring at the small of his back.

He made a soft sound at the touch, like it grounded him. Like your fingers in his hair were all it took to keep him here, in this moment, in you.

When you did speak, it was barely above a whisper.

“I’ve loved you since you offered me your sleeve.”

He let out this shaky laugh that cracked right down the middle and turned into a hiccup of another tear.

Then you both stood there for a long time—no more clues, no more envelopes, no more presents or plans.

Just two kids in love, wrapped in each other, in a room that smelled like candle wax and hope, hearts thudding in sync under cotton and thread and years of shared history.

Eventually, Stiles pulled back just enough to see your face, his hands still cupping your sides like you might float away if he let go.

“You’re never getting this sweatshirt back,” you murmured, smiling up at him.

“Deal,” he said, and leaned in to kiss you like it was the only gift he needed.

His lips were warm and familiar and just a little bit chapped—like he hadn’t remembered to use the lip balm you kept trying to sneak into his backpack. But none of that mattered. Not the dry lips or the tear-smudged cheeks or the fact that his hoodie sleeves were still swallowing your hands.

Because the kiss?

It was everything.

Soft and slow at first—like he was afraid of shattering the moment. His hands stayed gentle, fingers curled against the small of your back and your side, barely gripping, just holding. Like you were fragile, or maybe like he was. And then you tilted your head just a little, pressed closer, and something cracked open.

He sighed into your mouth like it was relief.

Like kissing you was the answer to a question he hadn’t known he was asking all day.

The kiss stayed sweet, but it deepened in that sort of clumsy, impossibly you two way—where his nose bumped yours and he smiled into it, where you laughed quietly against his lips because his hand had accidentally brushed your hip and made you twitch.

You broke the kiss for a breath, barely, and he chased you with a quiet sound—like he was already missing it.

You nuzzled close, your nose brushing the side of his, and whispered, lips brushing his skin as you spoke, “Just so you know… if you ever get rid of this buzz cut, I’m going to cry.”

He blinked, breath catching as he pulled back the tiniest bit to look at you. “What?”

“I’ll cry,” you repeated solemnly, then kissed the corner of his mouth. “Real tears. Ugly ones. And then I’ll have to go find someone else’s sleeve to sob into. Because this?” You reached up and ran your fingers along the soft velvet of his buzzed hair. “This is criminally hot. I mean, seriously. You have no idea what this does to me.”

Stiles flushed immediately—face going from warm to cherry red in an instant. “Wha—okay, no. No, see, this is not fair. You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m—when I’ve just been emotionally demolished by your love scrapbook and—and your face in my hoodie.”

You grinned.

He rubbed a hand down his own face, flustered and glowing and utterly undone. “You—you love the buzz cut?”

You nodded, emphatic. “I adore it. You look like… like a freshly sharpened pencil I want to make out with forever.”

He made a strangled noise. “That is the weirdest and most affirming compliment I’ve ever received.”

You kissed him again. Quick. Sweet. “Good.”

He rested his forehead against yours then, eyes fluttering shut, still smiling like he couldn’t stop if he tried. “I almost didn’t do it, you know. Buzz it. I thought you might hate it. Or think I looked like an egg.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his cheeks, your expression full of earnest affection.

“You could look like a literal potato and I’d still be in love with you. But lucky for both of us, you look like a movie star with a jawline sharp enough to commit crimes.”

Stiles made another one of those soft, broken little laughs and melted right into your hands.

“I love you,” he murmured. “So much it makes my chest feel too small.”

“Good,” you whispered back. “Then we match.”

And you kissed him again, slow this time, lingering. The kind of kiss that said thank you, and I see you, and I want to keep choosing you—over and over again.

And in the soft, golden light of his newly transformed room, wrapped in each other and ridiculous compliments and hoodie sleeves too long for your hands, everything felt safe. Everything felt like forever.

Eventually, the kiss slowed, softened, like an exhale that had been waiting all day to happen.

Your foreheads bumped again, and your lips brushed once more, but this time it was gentler—less urgency, more intimacy. Stiles sighed through his nose, still tangled in the warmth of your arms, your words, your everything.

You smiled, not pulling too far away, just enough to shift onto your knees on the bed and gesture behind you with a small, secretive glint in your eyes. “Okay. One more gift.”

Stiles groaned, but it was soft and fond, dragging his hands down his face dramatically. “How? How are there more? You already wrecked me. I'm emotionally obliterated. Do you want me to die?”

“Not yet.” You grinned. “But you might implode. So scoot.”

He shuffled obediently, and you reached back toward the stack of pillows at the head of his bed, digging beneath the fluff until your fingers curled around something you’d stashed carefully earlier in the day.

A small black box.

You hesitated for just a second, then pulled it free and turned, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“I was gonna… give you this in a different context,” you admitted, voice dipping a little. There was heat beneath your words—an unspoken layer of maybe later tonight, if we felt brave enough, but you didn’t say it aloud. You didn’t have to. The flush in his cheeks said he understood exactly what you meant.

His eyes flicked to the box, then back to your face, breath catching.

You opened it slowly.

Inside was a crown.

Not gaudy. Not regal. Not a king’s crown or anything covered in jewels.

No—this was so him.

Crafted of matte black metal, the usual sharp spikes had been swapped for curved little bats—elegant and geeky all at once. They looked like they were mid-flight, like they’d taken off from some gothic comic book panel. And across the front and right behind it on the inner band, etched in delicate silver script, were two lines:

I love you. I know.

Stiles made a sound. A choked-off laugh, caught in his throat like it didn’t know whether to come out as awe or disbelief.

“I—what—” He reached forward but didn’t touch it, like he was afraid his hands were too human for something this perfect.

You lifted it from the box carefully, the way you might lift a relic from a museum or a holy object, and leaned toward him.

He went still.

And when you settled it on his head—when you placed it there gently, precisely, reverently—his breath stuttered right out of him.

“There,” you whispered, brushing his cheek. “Perfect.”

He blinked at you, visibly overwhelmed, voice caught somewhere in the galaxy between bashful and undone. “You made me a bat crown.”

“I did.”

“With a Star Wars quote.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I love you.”

“You better,” you said, grinning, but your voice cracked slightly. Because you weren’t done. Not quite.

You took his hand.

Held it between both of yours like it was precious. Like it had always been meant for you.

“Stiles,” you said, and then, more deliberately, more sacred, “Mieczysław.”

His breath hitched.

“That’s my engagement promise to you,” you said quietly, steady despite your heart racing. “Because let’s be honest. We’re gonna get married someday. It’s not even a question anymore. It’s just a when. And this? This is your crown. Because you already rule my whole world.”

Stiles’ eyes welled instantly, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh it off. Didn’t try to change the subject like he usually might. He just stared at you like you were the only real thing that had ever existed.

You smiled softly, eyes flicking up to the little bats still trembling slightly with the movement of his breathing.

And that was it.

The moment hung between you like starlight—quiet, steady, eternal.

Just two disaster nerds in love, one in a hoodie and the other in a bat crown, already promising forever in the language of Star Wars and memories and late-night snacks.

And maybe it wasn’t the grandest birthday anyone had ever thrown, but it didn’t have to be.

Because this?

This was yours.

Forever.

“Happy birthday, Stilinski.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #gender neutral reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x reader fluff #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan o’brien #x gender neutral reader #happy birthday

89 notes · View notes

obriengf · 11 months ago

Text

24 Songs || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: It's your middle school prom, and it's not what you thought it'd be. Words: 2K Warnings: solidifies that the reader is female/wears feminine clothing Notes: bringing back that flufffff, these babes are 13 now- growing fast!!!!

part three of TWENTY FOUR - a stiles stilinski series (masterlist)

A Night Under The Stars; twinkling lights against a darkened room, blue and golden tones shining a mood throughout the crowded space, cascading shimmering strings of elusive stars that fell beautifully from a gymnasium's ceiling. It was an experience that you didn't want to miss - middle school prom, one of the last hoorahs before you walk through the intimidating double doors of Beacon Hills High in the Fall. It was an experience that you were looking forward to - expressing your freedom whilst spending time with your friends, taking advantage of your flowy dress as you twirled and swayed to the current top hits. It was an experience that you wanted to live to the fullest - ideality in your young eyes where you were blushing from something sweet that your date said, being told that you looked beautiful in your dress tonight, and just simply making the most of a situation that didn't come around too often. Your Middle School prom was made to be a magical night - but as you sat alone in the corner of the gym, twenty-four songs had already passed tonight and the twinkling lights being the only thing keeping you company - you had never felt any less magical than you did at this very moment.

You stared across the dancefloor in a mixture of awe and longing, watching as your friends smiled and laughed, paired off with girls from your homeroom as they succumbed to the beauty of the atmosphere. Your feet had yet to ache from the joyous dancing you had already spent with them, but being the odd one out wasn't something you necessarily found solace in. The music was slower now, and the bodies of nervous couples moved closer together as much as your teachers would allow a cohort of thirteen-year-olds to get.

It crossed your mind that maybe having two boys as your closest friends wasn't always the best thing, despite how much happiness you shared with them, as you saw Scott smiling nervously before holding Sally Wilkinson's hand and Stiles talking with Taylor Davis. They found dates quickly, and you couldn't help the tiniest bit of hurt that squeezed at your heart due to being the remainder in a group of three. But you tried to show a strong facade, wanting more to spend the night with your friends and revel in their goofiness as one danced erratically and the other too afraid to move without a hit from his asthma puffer. Your time with them tonight was great, but incredibly short-lived.

It was easy to be forgotten where you sat, the shadows from the bleachers nearly close enough to engulf you completely if it wasn't for the fairy lights that adorned the wall above. Their mellow glow shone down on you like a softened halo, picking up the sparkles of your dress with ease and the glittery body spray that created a translucent celestial scene over your skin. Your hands sat gently within your lap, fiddling mindlessly with the rings your mother let you borrow as they were twisted around your fingers in a mismatched pattern. And It was then when your eyes couldn't stay forward, eventually hanging low, suddenly interested in picking at a small sequin near the hem of your skirt. The slow tune that echoed throughout the gym swiftly became haunting to you, a mockery, a reminder of isolation.

Oh, to be thirteen and to feel this lonely definitely wasn't on your regime for tonight.

Your feet tapped in nervousness, heels clicking gently against the wooden gym floor. You just wanted your friends, you needed them, to be able to take this night by the horns and make it your own. And you're more than sure that they would drop everything in an instant to be by your side, but it was their happiness too and they were spending it with their dates. You couldn't jeopardise that.

You would have been mere seconds from standing up if it wasn't for another body blocking your escape, the dark grey suit catching your gaze first before recognising the lame tie that he was forced to wear tonight - the one that you loved, simply because he didn't.

"Stiles?" Your voice was quiet, but he could hear it clearly among the gentle vibe of the room. He smiled sheepishly as hands sunk deep into the pockets of his slacks, his buzzed head dropping into a nod. The last time you saw him in a suit was the day of his mother's funeral; the brief memory of young brown eyes watering, bottom lip bitten and quivering. He had grown since then, as much as you had, but not nearly as much as the sacred friendship that pulled you both so effortlessly together. You looked up and into his caramelised eyes, the tone only complemented more by the golden lights that dazzled behind you. With a brow raised in confusion, you hummed to him, "Where's Taylor? I thought you'd be dancing with her?"

The boy winced before a chuckle pushed past his lips in a huff, his arm raising to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, "She wanted to spend the rest of the night with her friends." The puzzled contort of your features still didn't fade, the young naiveness prompting your eyes to grow wider as you silently asked for him to elaborate. A grumble settled in his throat as he cleared it, the corners of his lips briefly flicking up before a boyish smile could be formed. Stiles prayed that you couldn't see the blush dusting his cheeks as he watched you, "Well, she actually said that I was... I was too distracted."

"Distracted?" Your voice found hilarity, a smile of your own making an appearance as it lit up your face. With a slightly tilted head, you followed the red tinge that grew brighter against Stiles' pale skin as it now licked at his nose and gathered under his ears. "You had like, one of the prettiest girls in our year to dance with and you were distracted. With what?"

"Mhm." He didn't know what to say; how to articulate that his gaze had been locked on you ever since you left your small group a few songs ago. He didn't know what it was, either, that prompted him to stare as if you were physically pulling him to you, a force of will and magnetized whim. He just didn't know. But what he could gather was that you looked beautiful and he missed your smile as you were blanketed by sadness in the corner of the gym. He desired to hear your laugh play endlessly, a broken record that he would never fix. He wanted your touch even more after you left a fiery imprint on his arm from before, the heat and electrified tenderness left by your circling fingers on his bicep had still seeped through his formal blazer. Maybe, he did know, and the thought of it left him breathless.

Stiles inhaled deeply, eyes flickering from yours to the floor with haste before he released his shaky sigh, "I was looking at you."

It was an answer that you didn't expect, the shock surely evident as it contorted your facial features; a raised bow to your hairline, and jaw dropped from the words weighing heavily on the tip of your tongue. Stiles Stilinski was distracted by you. You wanted to ask why, to delve deep inside his mind and figure out just what made you so enticing that he would abandon his original plan to be by your side instead. But you couldn't speak, even though your face said it all and the flattery was well worth the way your cheeks grew rosy and bashful.

The Stilinski boy was observant. He always had been. His father had told him so, many times, with the addition of mentioning that he was too observant for his own good. And that's how Stiles knew that he hadn't gone too far and that this moment was one of understanding and enchanting daze. His confidence grew as he mirrored the sparkle in your eye and the way your lips curled perfectly into the smile he had become so incredibly infatuated with. He quickly licked at his lips, stance straightening, "I kinda didn't want to be here with Taylor, I wanted to keep hanging out with you. And when I saw you over here, I just kept thinking how... I don't know...". He rolled his head, body squirming from the embarrassment of saying his thoughts aloud, luckily filtered otherwise his sentences would be a blubbering mess, "You just look really pretty tonight. And I didn't get to tell you. A-and I just really, I really, want to dance with you right now. If... i-if you'll dance with me, too..."

His hand stretched toward you, a beacon, an invitation, alluring to your dreams for the night, and did he actually just call you pretty? Stiles called you pretty, and he wanted to dance with you, he wanted to be in your presence and it was so sweet. Your palm slid against his, the boy's lengthy fingers closing around it instantly, and you felt your shoulders drop in contentedness. Your tooth scraped against your bottom lip before beaming, a smile bright and fulfilling, and you couldn't help the small chuckle that fell from you as your body rose from the plastic seat, "I would really like that."

Stiles' mind was buzzing; a concoction of silly thoughts about whether his hands were clammy, or if his dance moves were too outlandish. His heart was hammering and he was sure that if your fingertips idled near his wrist then you would be able to feel his racing pulse. He sucked in a deep breath as panic began to set in - but it was his desire to look over his shoulder, a need to look at your face and into your eyes, that prompted him to settle immediately. The boy saw the kindness from that day in his closet when you held him as he cried, and in the classroom on his first day of school. Every moment that you shared appeared before him and he exhaled, a gentle release, and he knew that things would be okay.

Tender and slow tunes continued to echo throughout the gym, and what was once a haunting melody became a sound to entice anticipation. You jumped slightly as you felt Stiles' hand settle respectively on your waist, a small apology whispered under his breath with a complementing smile. He took the lead and began to sway you both, small motions, forgetting to move his feet as he gazed over you in fondness. He didn't regain awareness until you glanced up at him and smiled.

"I'm really happy that you're not dancing with Taylor Davis." You said, quiet enough for him to hear, and he snorted in response.

Stiles smiled back at you, his hand unconsciously squeezing your waist in thought, "Maybe I shouldn't have asked her in the first place. You're much more fun to hang out with, anyway."

"...She didn't like your moves, did she?" You said quickly, recalling a moment at one point where his arms were flailing and his date smiled with utter awkwardness.

"I nearly hit her in the face, Y/N! I will never live it down." Exasperation spurted from Stiles, his eyes rolling as over-exaggeration filled the space between you both. The hand that was placed firmly on your waist clutched at his heart in dramatics, and it caused you to lightly whack his chest as you chuckled at his atypical behaviour. Stiles proved his own point as he watched you - how you laughed with him, how you didn't look away or appear embarrassed. You were content with being in his energetic bubble and his heart nearly soared through the gymnasium's ceiling. "You don't care that I can't dance, right?"

"You can dance, Stiles. It's not... how other people would dance, but I like the way you do. Because it shows who you are, and you're my friend, and I will always be happy to dance with you like that."

"With my wavy arms and whirly hips?"

You laughed and it was absolute second nature now when it came to your friend, "Even when you step on my toes or if you ever whack me in the face. Promise."

He seemed happy with that, a familiar warmth encasing your waist as his hand returned. He shone his teeth in a goofy grin, voice light and airy, "That would be nice. I'll hold your word to it, though."

Your Middle School prom was made to be a magical night, and thanks to Stiles Stilinski, it was.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic #teen wolf imagine #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien imagine #twentyfour #twenty four #twentyfour obriengf

144 notes · View notes

fandomnsfw · 2 years ago

Text

My Sexy Little Siren - Stile Stilinski x Reader

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x shy!virgin!Reader

Prompt: I did a poll and Stiles won! Congrats 🥲 sexy bastard.

Warning: smut, dirty talk, 18+. Virginity, making out. Fluff.

No beta sorry pups.

ENJOY!!!

****

You checked your bandana hadn’t slipped in your drivers side mirror before hopping out your baby blue F-85 Cutlass nervously. You brushed the front of your yellow sun dress before you started strolling into the school.

It was your first day at beacon hills and honestly you couldn’t be more nervous. Being supernatural meant you had to check with any other creatures living here before moving but after seeing Derek Hale the alpha in the area he’d gave you the go ahead telling you most of his pack resides at the same school.

You stared at the doors to the school with a shaker breath before finally opening one door trying to slip in undetected however the second you came in all eyes were on you. God why did you wear yellow today, you cursed yourself.

You look at your locker number on a sheet of paper you were holding and finally found it. You opened it and stuff your books inside before grabbing what you’d need for your first lesson however before you could close the door someone did it for you.

You looked up to see a guy with blonde hair and muscles but you weren’t swayed by his looks you were more angry that he could’ve trapped your hands in your locker but you decided to ignore him and try to walk past him but he quickly grabbed your wrist and dragged you back slightly.

“Where you going babe? My names Sam what’s yours?” He questioned in a tone that implied I had no choice but to answer.

Silly boy.

“Let go of me.” You huffed angrily your southern accent as prominent as ever.

“That’s a really pretty accent where you from?” He tried again and you were very quickly losing your patience.

“Hey Samual how about ya’ let the lady go before I tell Scott you’d be better on the bench.” A voice suddenly said from behind you. You spun around as Sam let you go and stood in front of you was possibly the cutest guy you’d ever seen.

He had little beauty spots all over his pale skin, the most amazing amber coloured eyes you’d ever seen with slightly messy brown hair too. His plump lips left you wondering what they would feel like pressed against yours.

“Whatever Stilinski.” Same grumbled before walking off.

“You the new supernatural?” He asked softly making your eyes widen but you gave him a nervous nod.

“Wolf?” He asked casually as he started strolling down the hall. You followed after him with a small smile.

“Siren.” You responded easily and he stopped quickly glancing at you with shocked eyes.

“I have so many questions.” He chuckled as he continued walking again.

“I would be happy to answer them all…Stilinski?” You replied cheerfully you southern accent causing him to smile.

“I like your accent and you can call me Stiles.” He grinned down at you as you flushed slightly.

“T-Thank you.” You muttered shyly as you looked down at the ground.

“I honestly thought you were gonna tell me you were a fairy.” Stiles suddenly said as he stopped in front of what also happened to apparently be his class.

“Why?” You asked curiously a slight frown on your face.

“Cos’ you’re pretty and delicate looking.” He answered honestly making you flush again.

“Stilinski stop flirting and sit your ass down!” The teacher shouted making you jump slightly.

“Yes coach!” Stiles shouted with gritted teeth making you giggle behind your hand.

“You’re the new girl…Y/N Y/L/N?” The coach asked and you nodded shyly making him look around the room.

“Lydia you can show Y/N around today.” He instructed and a small red head waved her hand at you and the seat next to her.

“I see you met Stiles.” Lydia spoke quietly as you opened your economics book.

“Yes he’s very charmin’.” You drawled softly making her eyes widen.

“Stiles? Stilinski?” She raised a brow at you making you blush once again. For goodness sake you wish you stop blushing.

“Mhm. He saved me from a jerk called Sam then said I was pretty and delicate like a fairy.” You giggled softly as you looked over to his seat noticing he was already looking at you, he gave a you a small wave with his slender fingers making you flush again.

“Stiles did?” Lydia huffed like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing but you didn’t noticed as you were too busy staring at Stiles who had turned back round to face the front.

His shoulders were broad and strong looking and those beauty spots spread round the back of his neck too. It was very distracting so when coach called on you, you had no idea what to say.

“I’m as lost as last years Easter egg Sir.” You blurted out making everyone laugh and coach look at you in confusion.

“I ain’t gotta clue coach.” You stated clearly this time making him roll his eyes.

“McCall.” He growled as his eyes flicked to a dark hair tan boy.

“Coach have you done something different with your hair?” The boy called McCall laughed nervously and Stile buried his head in his desk to contain his laughter.

You casually leaned onto your hand hiding your mouth as best you could unfortunately coaches eyes clocked both you and Stilinski he was seething.

“Detention. Stilinski. Y/N. And let’s not forget McCall!” He screamed making you jump slightly but you had to bite you lip to stop from laughing.

Great detention on your first day.

*****

You glanced around the cafeteria as you spotted Lydia waving to you. You strolled over to what you assumed was the pack table with grace as you found a seat next to Stiles.

“Hi.” Stiles said sweetly as he shot you a grin that made you flush with a small shy smile occupying your lips.

“Hi.” You muttered softly looking up to see everyone staring at you.

“Stiles says you’re a Siren? What exactly is that?” McCall asked carefully with furrowed brows.

“Oh my god do you have a tale?” A curly haired boy asked across the table.

“Not that I’m aware of.” You snorted softly making stiles smile.

“So what can you do?” Stiles asked casually as he ate a French fry.

“I can sing. I’ve been told when sirens get older they can single handedly stop wars.” You informed seriously making everyone nod thoughtfully.

“So does it work on everyone? What exactly happens when someone is sung to?” He carried on his questions which you happily answered throughout lunch time.

By the end of lunch you’d learnt everyone names and their place in the pack. You found them all so fascinating and it was nice to belong to a group so quickly.

******

You were making your way to detention with coach when you bumped into a rather sturdy chest making you stumble backwards however a strong arm wrapped around your waist stopping you from falling on your ass.

You automatically placed your hands on whoever’s chest it was to steady yourself before looking up to see it was Stiles. Your eyes fluttered a little as you took in his featured this close up.

“S-Sorry I wasn’t w-watchin’ where I was goin’.” You stuttered nervously before taking your hands away from his chest but still not stepping back.

“It’s okay Y/N.” The way he said your name made you shiver and your heart to start to pound in your chest.

You moved around him to walk into coaches econ room as your tried to contain your heart rate knowing Scott would hear it. Scott was already sat in the room where coach stood up and stared down at all of you with a glare.

“I have stuff to do so sit here and read or something. No talking.” He stated before leaving the room.

You sat there reading a book you’d bought yourself last week in silence until the boys started whispering to one another making you look up catching them looking at you.

“Is it genetic or because you’re a siren?” Scott asked nervously making you frown. You ween’t sure what they were referring to so you just raised a brow at them.

“Your…well everything.” Stiles pointed to your body and waved his hand awkwardly.

“Are ya’ll asking if am attractive because am a siren?” You drawled with an eye roll.

“Yes?” He chuckled unsure of whether he was offending you.

“The answer is I don’t know. My mama was real pretty but she was human. So could be either as I got the siren side from my daddy.” You giggled softly making them nod with a small smile.

Detention came and went without a hitch and you were now walking with Scott and Stiles to the parking lot, giggling softly at them as they bickered with one another like brothers.

“Would either of you like dinner at mine? I usually make way too much for myself?” You asked as both boys walked you to your car.

“I would but I promised my mom I’d bring her dinner tonight.” Scott chuckled making you nod softly.

“My dads working all night so yeah I’d love to.” Stiles answered honestly making you smile at him gently.

“Just follow me. Oh an I’ll give ya’ some for you to take to your dad.” You offered, flushing a little when Stiles opened your car door helping you in like a true gentleman.

He nodded at you offer for food for his dad as you clicked your seat belt in before closing the door. You rolled down your window and gave him your best and brightest southern belle smile.

“Why thank you.” You replied playfully your southern accent making it even more humorous.

“You are quite welcome Miss Y/L/N.” Stiles said with a fake southern accent making you giggle.

“I’ll see you soon.” You muttered before waving him to his car.

As you drove home you occasionally checked you mirror making sure you still looked put together before applying a little gloss with one hand as you tried to pay attention to the road still.

You brush the ends of your hair a little, your waves falling nicely over your shoulders as finally pulled up at your little house.

“So you live alone?” Stiles asked as he got out his jeep.

“Mhmm ma’ daddy left me the car and both parents left me enough money to buy myself and house and live off until I finish school.” You answered honestly making him smile understandingly.

“It’s a nice car.” He stated as you unlocked your front door.

Your house was small and on the edge of the woods but it had a nice garden in the front and back which allowed you to grow fruit and vegetables. You also had two chickens in the back allowing you to live mostly off the land accept for meat.

“I used to live on a big farm.” You stated with a chuckled as he observed you house quietly.

“How was that?” He asked sweetly making you grin.

“It was fun. I spent my life raising stock and riding horses in the country but after they died I couldn’t stay there so I sold the farm and started looking for somewhere to live. I eventually decided on California but I didn’t wanna live in the city so I looked at near by towns and found this one had the most supernatural activity and decided I’d maybe finally have friends that understood being different.” You rambled as you took some vegetables, you’d picked this morning, out the fridge.

You had been living here a few weeks before you started school so you could get yourself settled and now everything in your home was exactly how you wanted it.

“That sounds nice actually. I’ve always been more of a wild card I guess. Scott actually got bit one night when I thought it would be fun to go and find a dead body in the woods. My dads the Sheriff so I listen in on all his calls and radio stuff.” He chuckled darkly making you smile sadly.

“Ya’ couldn’t of known Stiles.” You stated seriously as you touched his arm sweetly before taking out a knife and began chopping some tomatoes up.

“Did you not have a boyfriend you were leaving behind?” He suddenly asked making you pause in your current task.

You looked up at him in shock before giggling and shaking your head. You weren’t exactly popular in your old school in fact most people thought you and your mother were witches.

“No I had a boyfriend a few years ago but he dumped me when everyone kept telling him I was a cursed witch.” You chuckled softly making his eyes widen.

“I used to be in love with Lydia. She was popular and I was a serious nerd so I wasn’t in her league but I guess we are friends now.” He huffed with an awkwardly laugh.

“Well her loss.” You stated sweetly as you smiled at him.

“Most would argue that. Including me.” He laughed making you frown.

“You’re hot, sweet, a gentleman and smart I don’t under how people aren’t flocking to your door.” You replied honestly but blushed at your own words avoiding his eyes as you continued chopping up more vegetables.

“You think I’m hot?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“Well you think I’m pretty and delicate.” You retaliated slightly childishly.

“That’s because you are.” He whispered suddenly you were very aware he wasn’t stood across the room but was now stood behind you.

As he spoke his breath had fanned against your neck causing a shiver to run down you spine and goosebumps to make an appearance.

His hand were on you hips lightly pressing as he turned you around to face him, effectively trapping you against the kitchen counter. His amber coloured eyes lit up under the glow of the late evening sun and his lips were looking much more tempting.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked sweetly as his hand pushed your hair away from your neck softly before cupping under your jaw.

You were so captivated by him the next words that came out weren’t exactly voluntary.

“You…can do whatever you want to me Stiles Stilinski.” You muttered breathlessly.

That’s all it took for him to lean down and close the gap between you. His lips were just as soft as you’d pictured them but the way he kissed you took you by surprise. He gripped onto you tightly, his kiss was passionate yet so loving like you were lover he couldn’t bare to part with.

You whimpered against his lips as his tongue swept across your bottom lip slowly as if he didn’t dare ask for permission but you gave it him instantly.

Yours arms came up to his chest gripping the black tshirt under his plaid one. Once your tongue met and entangled with his, your legs instantly felt weak underneath you. So when they collapsed from under you, you weren’t exactly surprised.

However Stiles seemed to be as he caught you up but pulled back from the kiss to look down at you with wide eyes. His eyes scanned your entire face as if looking for the reason your legs gave out but all he saw was how fucked you were just from a kiss.

“Jesus…you look…blissed.” He whispered in utter disbelief before diving back down and claiming your lips again.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands never letting go of his black T-shirt as honestly the rest of your body wasn’t cooperating you were a puddle under his strong arms and sweet lips.

His hands skimmed across the tiny patch of skin exposed on your ribs and your face flushed and you stuttered out a breath. He pulled back again his eyes scanning you whole body this time.

“Are you always this responsive?” He asked shyly as he finally stepped back slightly making you grab onto the counter to steady yourself.

“N-No.” You whispered quietly.

“I would like to take you on a date.” Stiles suddenly asked making you flush slightly but smile at his words giving him an enthusiastic nod.

*****

It had been a few weeks since you and Stiles had started dating but you’d yet to tell the pack because Stiles said he wanted you all himself for a little bit.

However as the weeks went on you began hating the secret more and more. Mostly because you weren’t able to touch him in school and it was killing you. You’d only made out a few times since the first kiss and you didn’t want to pressure Stiles but you were really starting to feet a tad bit touch starved.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have other people who hugged you and left little touches on your shoulder but it wasn’t Stiles. Which is how you found yourself absolutely bewitched with your hot sweating boyfriend as he ran around at lacrosse practice.

You didn’t even know how long you’d been staring but when Lydia’s voice spoke next to you, you jumped a little.

“Do you see what I see Allison?” Lydia teased as she watched you closely.

“Oh you mean the drool coming off Y/N’s lip?” She laughed as she looked down at the field.

“Which one is it? Hmm? I know all the players I could introduce you!” Lydia exclaimed making your eyes widen half thankful they hadn’t realise who captured your attention. You look back down to see Stiles lift his shirt to wipe his face before taking a drink, your face flushed as you let out a little squeak.

“Oh my god is it-” You covered Lydia mouth before she could say it and he face lit up.

“Shh the boys have Wolf hearing you know!” You snapped quietly making Scott look up at you guys.

“But the one your looking at doesn’t!” Lydia squealed like it was scandalous.

Scott nudged Stiles throwing his head in your direction with a smile making Stiles look up at you with a grin. He gave you a wink before running back off to practise occasionally catching your eyes on him.

“Did Stiles Stilinski just wink at you!?” Erica laughed making you bury your head in the book you had been trying to read before you got distracted.

“You guys are so embarrassing.” You grumbled with a pout as you sunk into your seat on the bleachers more.

******

Once practise had finished you and the girls made your way to your locker so you could grab your jacket they gossiped away about random things happening in school but quickly shut up as soon as Stiles started towards your locker.

You closed you locker quietly but suddenly your back was against your locker and Stiles was in front of you, arm leaning next to your head as he bent down slightly so his eyes were boring into yours.

“You got plans?” He asked casually making Lydia whisper something to Allison you didn’t quite catch.

“I’m going shopping with the girls tonight for the dance on Friday.” You answered quietly glancing at the girls who were wide eyed and very interested to see where this was going.

“You look good in red.” He stated seriously before before glancing at the girls then back to you.

“Wanna go to the dance together?” He asked teasingly making you flush and look at the floor with a nod.

“I’ll pick you up at 7.” He chuckled before walking off with a smirk.

“What’s gotten into him?” Erica laughed like she couldn’t believe that was even Stiles.

“Your gonna have to drag me to the car. I’ve suddenly lost the ability to move my legs.” You sighed dreamily making the girls giggle.

“So how long you guys been dating?” Allison suddenly asked making your eyes bug out there head before you started choking on thin air.

“Since my first week…but we kissed the first day.” You informed them shyly.

“Oh my god. How have you guys kept this a secret from wolves?!” Lydia laughed as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Because we haven’t gone on that many dates and we’ve only kissed a handful of times.” You muttered with a blush covering your cheeks as you arrived at your car.

“Why?” Erica asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know…maybe I seem too desperate. Whenever he kisses me I always looked like I’ve had my brains fucked out.” You mumbled shrugging your shoulders.

“Oooooh.” Lydia says like she finally understands.

“What?” You asked quickly earning a few giggles.

“He’s treating you like a delicate flower.” Allison answered honestly making you frown.

“He needs to know you want him to take control. You’re a sexy siren he probably thinks that if you wanted to go further you would.” Erica suggested as an alternative.

“Or maybe he doesn’t wanna push you. You maybe a sexy siren but you’re also very shy. There’s one word that might work to push him over the edge.” Lydia sighed softly before raising her brows as if trying to build tension.

“Please.” She stated seriously and you frowned in confusion.

“Erica you drive I need more context.” You say passing her the keys to your car.

You got in the back with Lydia as Allison took the passenger seat. You glanced at Lydia and gave her a nod letting her know you need more information. She clicked her seatbelt on and launched into her explanation.

“So you look like that after making out so the easiest thing to do would be look him in the eyes when he pulls away say ‘please’ in a quiet voice and then bite your bottom lip.” She stated like it was common knowledge.

“That will work?” You questioned uneasily.

“Yes 100%.” Lydia nodded enthusiastically.

Okay so that’s what you’ll do the next chance you get.

*****

You ran you hand over you dress as you stared at your reflection before spinning round to Allison who was getting ready at yours since Scott would be riding with us too.

“You look amazing stop doubting yourself.” She stated without you even saying a word.

“If you don’t get laid tonight we’re going back to that shop for a refund.” Lydia said over the FaceTime on Allison’s phone.

“Okay I’m ready.” You stood with your head held high as Allison put the last leaf clip on your hair.

“Good because I think the boys are here.” She said as she glanced out your bedroom window.

You both came down and opened the door before Stiles even had chance to knock, his eyes widening as they ran down your full body.

“I think he’s broken.” Scott said to Allison as he escorted her to the car.

“I am not broken I was trying not to say something inappropriate in front of company.” He growled with a smirk on his face as he offered you his hand.

“Shame on you Mr Stilinski.” You giggled softly before taking his offered arm.

“Not yet.” He muttered under his breath but you heard it causing you to flush.

*******

As you walked into the dance on Stiles arm a lot of people looked shocked. You weren’t sure if it was your dress or your date but you didn’t care.

Stiles was looking at you like you were the only one in the room and that was worth more attention than other people. He was wearing a black suit jacket a black shirt and red tie with plain black slacks.

“To the dance floor sexy lady.” He chuckled as he spun you playfully on your way to the dance floor.

You happily danced to a few songs before you dragged him off to sit down. He kissed your head, before telling you he’d get you a drink. Allison smirked at you the second he was gone but you just rolled your eyes at her.

“He’s so confident. It’s weird.” Scott laughed as her glanced over at you.

“It’s probably because there’s only room for one blushing mess in a relationship.” You joked softly making him shoot you his famous dopey grin.

“Or maybe you make him feel sexy.” Erica snorted making you flush once again.

You ignored all of them as Stiles brought you a drink. You took a sip before looking over at him with a sweet smile. He shot you a small grin before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m gonna get some air.” You whispered in his ear so he’d hear you okay, he nodded and put his jacket over your shoulders before holding out his arm for you again.

You shot a look over your shoulders letting the girls know you were gonna try now. Their eyes widened as they looked at each other with a grins on their face.

You leaned against the wall outside the school taking a deep breath as you let the cold air take away some of your cheeks redness.

“You look like a goddess.” Stiles whispered as he approached, blocking you against the wall, both his hands laying flat beside your head.

“And you look hot as fuck with your sleeves rolled up.” You giggled playfully making him bow his head against your collar bone with a laugh.

He looked up again his eyes flicking between your red lips and your Y/E/C eyes. You slid your hands up his ribs to his chest as he leaned in and finally kissed you.

He started slow but when you accepted his tongue into the equation he quickly became more frantic. His hands moving to your hips as he pulled your body towards him so you were pressed against him completely.

When you nails raked down his chest he pulled away and stared into your eyes like he always did only this time you looked back.

“Please.” You moaned before biting your lip. It happened faster than you thought it would his eyes went from amber to almost completely black as he gripped your hips in a way you knew would leave bruises.

“Fuck.” He groaned as you pulled you in for a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Go get in the jeep.” He instructed, passing you the keys.

As you turned to go to the jeep you noticed the girl peeking round the corner and shooed them away. You jogged over to the jeep getting in the passenger side before popping the key in the ignition.

Stiles got into the car started it, his free hand coming to rest on your thigh and he didn’t say a would the whole ride home. Once we arrived he ran round and opened the door for you, holding out his hand so you could stepped out.

He locked his car before dragging you towards the house still not saying anything as he took your keys and unlocked your front door.

However once the door was shut he spun around pushing you against the wall next to the front door, his lips on your immediately.

“Say it again.” He murmured against your lips.

“Please. Need you Stiles.” You added this time.

His hands were in your hair gripping it as he pulling you into another heavy kiss. Your tongue didn’t even try to battle it yet gave into him like he was in control of your body.

“God do you know how hard it was to stop after kissing you all those other time?” Stiles groaned as he began kissing down your neck, nipping and sucking the skin around your collar bone as he reached it.

“I wanted you on that first day.” You moaned softly as his hand wandered down to your ass.

“If I had known that I would’ve taken you on the fucking kitchen counter sweet girl.” He whispered in you ear seductively.

“Run to your bedroom, get out that dress and wait for me on the bed.” You gave him a nod before running to your bedroom.

You hurried to unsteadily unbuckle your shoes before kicking them off and then you unzipped your dress. You let the dress fall to the floor and took off your jewellery finally leaving you in a simple blood red thong.

You laid down on your bed kicking your legs in the air for about 5 minutes before Stiles came in with two waters and a bunch of snacks making you furrow you brow at him in frustration.

“Don’t worry that’s for after I’m done with you baby.” He chuckled as he stripped his shirt and tie before doing the same with his pants leaving him in boxers only.

He crawled onto the bed with a smirk before flipping you over some he could take all of you in. His long slender hand trailed down your neck and in between your bare chest and you stomach before you got to the edge of your panties.

“May I?” He asked sweetly making you flush but give him a nod of confirmation.

He pulled down your panties at an agonisingly slowly pace leaving kisses in his wake. When they were finally on the floor he opened your legs and really took your whole body in as he bit his bottom lip.

“Look at you all laid out and wet for me. You really are a goddess sent just for me.” He groaned as he admired your glistening sex.

“Need you to touch me Sti.” You moaned as you hand your own hands over you erect nipples.

“Okay baby. I got you.” He whispered seductively as his head disappeared from view.

His breath was suddenly blowing across your wet folds. You shivered nervously but opened your legs more for him which he rewarded with a small kiss on you thigh.

“Your so pretty baby.” He muttered as his tongue came out to lick gently up your slit.

You quickly realised he wasn’t just talking about you in general, he was talking about a specific part of you that he was currently spreading out gently.

You felt so exposed but you never once tried to hide yourself from his gaze or touch. You knew it was because you trusted him with all of you, even your heart.

“Come here baby.” He whispered as he gripped your thighs, pulling you closer before his tongue was on you.

He was gentle and very attentive, he listened to your body and responded. When he thrust his tongue inside of you, you couldn’t help the long dirty moan that came out your mouth as you grind against his tongue.

“Stiles.” You whimpered as your hands thread through his hair pulling slightly as his tongue went back to your clit drawing random shapes on it.

As he continued his ministrations there whilst he used the wetness from your entrance to coat two of his fingers. He circled around you hole causing your hole to flutter.

“Please need yer’ long fingers. Been thinking about them since you first waved at me in class.” You pleaded quietly, blushing at your own words.

“So needy aren’t you baby?” He whispered against your clit before continuing his task.

He pushed twos finger in causing you to feel a slight stretch. His fingers were a lot bigger than yours but you didn’t care you loved it. He curled his fingers upwards and started massaging that spot you had honestly never bothered to find.

“Oh god…love please.” You begged as you started grinding against him again and he he never stopped you.

Suddenly you had a boost of confidence and gripped its harder pulling and pushing him where you want it seem to turn him on further making him moan against your clit.

He suddenly started licking faster, his fingers never stopping but then he pulled away sitting up as you teetered the edge. Before you could say anything he start thrusting his finger in an upwards motion as the heel of his hand grind against your swollen wet button.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed as you gripped the sheets at either side of you desperately trying to ground yourself.

He sped up his hand making you arch your back off the bed. He moved his palm but his fingers kept up and he dove back down using his tongue again. The switch to soft and wet had you cumming without warning.

“Fuck.” Stiles moaned as he sat back to watch you come undone.

You body shook as your legs slammed shut twitching slightly. You looked up at him with hooded eyes as you pulled him towards you.

“You should know…I’m a virgin.” You whispered breathlessly

“So am I baby.” Stiles chuckled before kissing your chest before moving to your nipples.

“How did you make me cum better than I’ve ever done to myself?” You giggled softly which was broken my a moan as Stiles bit your nipple and a predatory grin on his face.

“I like research.” Was all he said before sitting up again.

“You got a condom?” He asked cautiously.

“No but I’ve been on iud since about a year ago for other reason.” You blushed at the implication but when you saw Stiles eyes darken further it was worth it.

“Need to be inside you.” Stiles groaned before bending down to kiss you passionately.

He lined himself at your entrance as he pulled back from the kiss to look into your eyes. You gave him a nod as you wrapped your arms around him. Fuck he was bigger than you’d expected.

You dug your nails into his back as he pushed into you slowly, his forehead leaning against yours as he stared into your eyes.

It felt so intimate and right even as he finally broke through your barrier. You whimpered in pain a single tear falling down the side of your face which he wiped away sweetly before kissing you lovingly.

“That’s the hard bit done baby. I’m sorry.” He whispered against your cheeks the guilt in his voice made your heart flutter as you clung to him tightly.

You looked into his eyes and in the moment you knew. You were so utterly in love with him.

“I love you Stiles.” You whispered thought it came more out like a moan when you moved by accident causing him to push in deeper.

He stared at you for a second as if process what you’d said before he kissed you again for a few seconds then pulled back.

“I love you too.” He huffed with a small laugh like he was trying to contain his happiness.

“Make love to me Stiles.” You whimpered as you grind against him, the pain mostly gone.

“I got you.” He whispered breathlessly against your skin.

He pulled almost all the way out before slowly pushing back in, changing his angles with every thrust until you cried out loudly making him chuckle softly.

“That the right spot baby?” Stiles teased as he grind into that spot again.

“Mhm. Feel’s so good.” You whimpered as your fingers came to thread through his hair.

You tugged at the strands making him thrust into you a little harder still hitting that spot. God you told him to make love to you but honestly with how you felt you really wish he’d just fuck you.

You ran your hands down the back of his neck gently before you got to his back and scraped you nails down in. He arched his back pressing his chest into yours but did exactly what you wanted and sped up.

“Oh shi- Yes!” You moaned rather loudly which only seemed to have Stiles speeding up more.

“Come on baby.You gonna cum for me?” He smirked but that quickly dropped as he moaned when you clenched around him.

His hand snaked down to your clit rubbing slow soft circles on it which paired with the fact that he was fucking you like a wild animal tipped you over the edge.

“Shit Stiles! Oh y-yeah cum inside me Sti. Want yer’ to fill me up.” You moaned as you rode out your orgasm.

Stiles pulled his hand away and started pounding into you with everything he had. You clenched around him and finally you felt him twitch inside you as he coated your walls.

His thrusts slowed down until they stopped as you collapsed on top of you however quickly rolled you over so you were on top.

He didn’t move to take himself out of you as he laid there catching his breath as you laid on his chest your eyes drifting slightly. Stiles sat up with you in his lap, still inside of you.

You whimpered a little clenching around his now half hard cock. You stared up at him with so much love as he stroked you cheek sweetly.

“Was that okay baby?” He asked softly causing a dopey grin to take over your face.

“Was perfect. Love how ya’ feel inside me.” You giggled drowsily as you threw your arms around his neck.

“I love you.” He whispered against your hair before rolling over so you were under him again.

“I love you too.” You replied as he pulled out causing a moan to leave you mouth.

“Stay there my love.” He muttered as he ran off to you bathroom across the hall.

He came back with a cloth, wiping you down which made you flush and hide you face behind your arms. He chuckled before taking the cloth back to your bathroom you popped on you things before passing him to go into the bathroom and pee.

You came back and he was sat in his boxers drinking some water and texting he someone. But as you came in topless he soon dropped it and crooked his finger telling you to come here you sat down on his lap and curled up into his chest.

“I’ve just told my da-”

His phone started ringing seeng his dads name on the screen he rolled his eyes and clicked the green phone icon before putting it on speaker as he passed you your water.

“Your not with Scott because his mom just left the hospital to pick him up cos you left him and Allison at the dance.” His dad huffed with what you could feel was definitely and eye roll.

“Fine I’m at my girlfriends.” He answered honestly but his dad went silent.

“What girlfriend?” He suddenly said like he wasn’t sure he heard right.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Stiles grumbled making you giggle.

“Oh my god that was a girl! Is that why you bought a new suit?” The sheriff laughed.

“Good bye Daddio!” Stiles shouted as he hung up.

“Aww you bought a new suit for me?” You giggled softly making him roll his eyes playfully.

“Come here my sexy little siren.” He chuckled as he pulled you on top of him.

#teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #smut #fluff #imagine #reader #reader insert #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x reader #mieczyslaw stilinski #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x you

526 notes · View notes

antis0cial23 · 1 year ago

Text

Even the Flannels: Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles x Female reader/oc

Summary: Nylah shows up to Stiles' house... wearing one of Stiles' shirts

Word Count:1,685

Rating: G

Beta Read: No

Tropes: Best Friends to Lovers, unrequited love on both sides, wearing the others clothes

Disclaimer/Warnings: insert character is AFAB, named but no physical description, no warnings

Please don't translate my work without my permission! Reblogging is allowed, thanks!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nylah walked down the darkened sidewalk, half the streetlights out along the path to Stiles’ house. The spring evening not cold, but enough of a chill in the air to call for a long sleeve to cover her arms. Seeing his house in sight, Nylah sped up her pace a small amount, opting for the front door as opposed to his open window since the sheriff's car sat in the driveway.

“Oh, hello Nylah,” Sheriff Stilinski said after Nylah had knocked on their household's front door. “Stiles is in his room.” He said with a nod towards the stairs but before a brief questioning glance at Nylah’s shirt.

“Thank you, sir.” Nylah responded with a polite smile to the sheriff. She ascended the stairs, rounding the corner of the hallway that led to Stiles’ room. She peered into his room before she reached his open door, seeing him lying on his bed, legs propped up on the headboard and an old-looking book in his hands held above his face. She walked in plopping down on the bed next to him.

“Jesus-“ Stiles yelped in surprise, not expecting another person to appear in his room. “Nylah he… is that my shirt?” Stiles asked, placing his book on his stomach, and looking at the muted burgundy shirt Nylah wore. Nylah glanced down at the shirt she wore,

“Yeah. It’s the same one I stole the last time I was here.” She said with a shrug. She heard Stiles mutter an ok, his eyes taking a second to leave their spot on his, well now her, shirt.

“So, why are you in my bedroom at…” He trailed off, looking at the clock on his nightstand. “…nine p.m.?” Stiles asked with a raised brow, pulling his legs down from their resting spot on his headboard, opting to just fold them slightly in front of him instead and sitting up.

“Was bored and Scott told me you were doing research.” Nylah responded, grabbing the book off his stomach before he fully sat up, glancing at the heading on the page. “So, fairies?” She asked him with a raised brow.

“So not even a text that you were coming over, got it. And yes, fairies. It's for the mega monster Wikipedia I’m essentially writing.” Stiles said, marking the page with a bookmark before taking it from her hands and closing it. Nylah corrected him, calling it a bestiary, but all she received was an eye-roll from Stiles.

“So, back to the fact you’re wearing one of my shirts… Why?” Stiles asked her, his typical quizzical expression on his face, the book now discarded onto his floor with the various other papers and books.

“They’re comfy.” Nylah responded with a shrug. The shirt she had on was one of Stiles lacrosse long sleeves, ‘Beacon Hills Lacrosse’ written on the right breast, ‘Stilinski’ accompanied by Stiles’ lacrosse number sprawled on the back.

“So you stole one of my shirts, somehow considering I don’t remember you doing that, and decided wearing it back to my house was a smart decision?” Stiles questioned, amused more so than annoyed, although he wasn’t the happiest that she had managed to steal it without him noticing… but the fact that she looked as good as she did in it slightly made up for that fact.

“If you ask me to give it back, I’m stealing another.” Nylah said, holding her arms against her in an effort to protect ‘her’ shirt. “Maybe even a flannel as payback…” She said with narrowing eyes, even though her tone was joking. Stiles didn’t speak for a moment, thinking how she would look in one of his flannels, snapping himself out of the thought quickly as to not get up right there and make her put one of his notorious flannels on.

“Don’t you even dare…” Stiles said with a playful glare, his flannels one of his most prized collections.

“And I don’t even wear it that much… Still smells like your cologne.” She said, holding the sleeve up to her nose before holding her hand out for Stiles to smell the shirt. He simply raised a brow at her antics, a smile on his face.

“Next time you do steal something, I’m stealing your socks.” He said, using the most ridiculous item he could think of as an incentive for her not to steal as many articles of his clothing. Although, he wouldn’t mind if she kept his lacrosse shirt considering it bared both his name and his lacrosse number.

“Oh, so you want neon blue socks with orange hearts on them?” She asked sarcastically, referring to the current socks she wore, pressing her back to the headboard as she put her legs in his lap to show off her brightly colored socks.

“Jesus…” Stiles said with a disappointed grin. “Fine, keep your socks you insane person. Seriously, who wears socks like this?” He said with a chuckle, Nylah simply opting to kick his leg at his comment.

“Are you gonna start stealing my hoodies next, Ny?” Stiles asked her, an eyebrow raised in mock accusation.

“Who says I haven’t already?” She asked, the jovial nature of her comment along with the glint of mischief in her eyes made Stiles shake his head with a smile.

“How many of my clothes do you even own?” Stiles asked, a bit exasperated, wondering if she was the reason he couldn’t find his green hoodie or his striped long-sleeve.

“A number…” Nylah replied vaguely, avoiding eye-contact with a mischievous smile.

“At this rate, I’m just wondering what you’re going to steal next.” He shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face at her antics. If she looked even half as good as she did wearing this shirt of his, he would gladly surrender his whole wardrobe to her... but she didn’t need to know that fact.

“You’re heart.” She responded in her best yandere voice, mocking one of the many shows they had watched late on Saturday nights when neither of their parents knew they had left their respective houses. Stiles' eyes widened a fraction, not entirely expecting her comment. In that moment, he was painfully aware she had no idea she already owned it in its entirety.

“Oh, shut it, Nylah.” He rolled his eyes, hoping it was enough to deflect from the second that his eyes displayed the want he had for her. “Stop stealing things from me, heart included.” He joked back, covering his tracks as best he could. He didn’t want to ruin whatever type of friendship they had.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I wear your clothes, Stilinski.” Nylah said, mainly in jest, partially in truth having noticed the small glances she got from him whenever she did. She had always chalked them up to teenage hormones, deciding it was safer to think that than Stiles maybe liking the fact that his clothes were on her.

“Nuh-uh.” Stiles responded like a child, but it was all he could come up with to deflect because any more words and he would’ve caved right there and told her he really, and he meant really, did.

“Don’t worry, Stiles, I know you do.” She said with a smug smile, patting his shoulder. Some days, like these, she tested the waters to see where she stood, her confidence taking a hit almost every time as she watched Stiles deflect.

“Does that mean you're trying to be my girlfriend by wearing my clothes?” Stiles said jokingly, although deep down in the depths of his brain he rarely let surface besides late-night images and dreams, he meant it in full.

“Does that mean you want me to be?” Nylah countered, not wanting to be the one who ruined a seemingly perfect friendship. Maybe she really did want to, but Stiles needn’t know, at least not yet.

“Yeah.” Stiles said before he could think, thanking the depths of his sarcasm for tinging the words with a sarcastic edge, saving himself from utter embarrassment and ruin, or so he thought.

“Ha. Ha. Real funny, Stiles.” Nylah rolled her eyes as she spoke, a joking smile on her face even though her insides curled in on themselves at the rejection Stiles didn’t even know he gave. Stiles thought for maybe half a second, re-evaluating his life in milliseconds.

“I’m not joking.” Stiles said, jumping off a metaphorical cliff he had been clutching onto for dear life for what felt like months. Nylah’s brows scrunched together, looking at Stiles,

“Wait—really?” She asked him, voice full of confusion and insecurity.

“Yeah…?” Stiles trailed off, a small squeak in his voice, tone uncertain to her response.

“You do know that means it's now socially acceptable for me to steal more of your clothes… Right?” Nylah responded with a wide smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling. Stiles waited for a second, processing her words, realizing the meaning behind her words, the acceptance of his horribly worded proposal to date.

“Yeah… you- you’re ok with being my girlfriend?” Stiles asked, happily but wanting to be certain.

“Stiles, we kind of already act like we are dating… I think your dad already thinks we are.” She said with furrowed brows and a smile directed at Stiles. Nylah’s eyes went wide for a moment,

“Does this mean I can take your flannels?” Nylah asked excitedly, sitting up off the headboard.

“Even the flannels… I concede.” Stiles said with a wide smile at his now girlfriend, he shook his head at her excitement.

“Yes!” Nylah cheered excitedly, already thinking of which one she would steal first.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman… and the death of my closet.” Stiles said with a fond smile, resting his forehead against hers with a content smile as she chuckled, a smile of her own resting on her face as well.

“Maybe, maybe not…” Nylah said, planning the closet's demise as she thought of every item she could steal. And that would be the life they lived. Stiles constantly buying new clothes since his kept disappearing, and Nylah stealing those too.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles x oc #before void stiles #oneshot #fluff #i have a problem #stiles is arguably the best teen wolf character #i am a simp for Stiles #fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles oneshot #stiles fanfiction

43 notes · View notes

tinywagoncolorbat · 2 years ago

Text

What I Write

This will be my first time writing and it'll probably be horrible so please don't judge, I also probably wont post much if you want to make a request you can.

Anime and Characters

Black Clover - Luck Voltia, Yuno, Julius Novachrono, Gauche Adlai, Zora Ideale, Rhya

Fairy Tail - Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar, Loke,

Attack on titan - eren Yeager, Levi Ackerman, Connie Springer, Porco Gaillard, Reiner Braun, Armin Arlert, Zoe Hange,

My Hero Academia - Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Tomura Shingaraki, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinso, Tamaki Amajiki

Seven Deadly Sins - Meliodas, Ban, King, Escanor,

Jujutsu Kaisen - Satrou Gojo, Megumi fushiguro, Yuji Itadori, Toge Inumaki, Choso, Sukuna

Bungo Stray Dogs - Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Junichiro Tanizaki, Ranpo Edogawa, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Ryonosuke Akutagawa

One Piece - Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Portgas D. Ace, Shanks, Smoker, Trafalgar D. Law, Eustass Kid,

Shows

Supernatural - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jack Kline, Castiel, Lucifer, Gabriel,

Marvel - Tony Stark, Steve Rogers,

Teen wolf - Liam Dunbar, Theo Raken, Scoot Mccall, Issac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Chris Argent,

TVD/The Originals - Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, Jeremy Gilbert, Elijah Mikaelson, Niklaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Kai Paker, Tyler Lockwood, Lorenzo, Marcel Gerard,

I will probably add to this if I think of anyone else to write for

#smut #x reader #anime #supernatural #attack on titan #my hero academia #headcanon #fluff #black clover #the vampire diaries #teen wolf #masterlist #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

40 notes · View notes

justauthoring · 2 years ago

Text

Commissions Are OFFICIALLY Open

Hello, my name is Olivia and I’ve been on Tumblr for over five years. I have always written completely free content on here as it’s always been a hobby of mine that I’ve adored and loved doing as a way to keep my mind off of things.

However, now 21, I would love to be able to turn this hobby into something I can put more focus and attention to. I am currently trying to save up for University which I will be attending in this Fall and it would mean the absolute world to me if you all could help me out.

There will be three slots open for now and I will keep this post and my pinned post updated with however many or if any slots are open.

THREE SLOTS LEFT

It will be $10.00 per 1K words.

If you’d like to see examples of my works, you can find all my main masterlist HERE and my older pieces HERE.

You Can Request:

500 words ($5.00)

1,000 words ($10.00)

2,000 words ($20.00)

3,000 words ($30.00)

4,000 words ($40.00)

5,000 words ($50.00)

6,000 words ($60.00)

(Possible discussion of more is available)

I Will Write:

OC x Character

Character x Character

Self-Insert x Character

Fandoms I Will Write For Are:

Attack On Titan

My Hero Academia

Demon Slayer

Jujutsu Kaisen

Chainsaw Man

Naruto

Fairy Tail

Tokyo Revengers

Blue Lock

Haikyuu

Final Fantasy 7 Remake

Non-Anime:

Teen Wolf (Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Isaac Lahey)

Stranger Things (Steve Harrington)

Cobra Kai (Eli ‘Hawk’ Moskowitz, Miguel Diaz, Robby Keene)

What I will Write For:

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death, Angst, etc.

Specific Pronouns

SFW, NSFW, Smut, etc.

Dark Content (within reason)

What I Won’t Write For:

Illegal Ships (underage/adult, incest, ect.)

Certain Kinks (just ask)

All commission inquiries will be made through my email. Do not message me through Tumblr, I will not respond. Any questions and if you’d like to request, please reach me at [email protected].

Half of the payment must be made first. Once received, then I will get started on a rough draft. When that’s done, I will send it to you to show proof of work, to make sure everything’s going the way you want and then you will send the rest of the payment. The piece will not be finished until the rest of the payment is received.

All payments will be made through PayPal (CAD$) or online banking E-Transfer (information will be provided upon request of commission).

When sending in a commission, you must answer these questions:

How many words do you want?

Is it SFW or NSFW?

Is it character x character or character x OC (reader)?

Any kinks, tropes, or specifics?

Fluff or Angst?

What fandom do you want?

What character or characters do you want?

(If you want a OC or self-insert) Description of OC or reader.

Once all of this is sent, I will reply with a estimate for price, what the first half payment will be and how long I expect it will take me. I will also send updates if you want along the way on how your piece is going, if it’ll take longer or less time then I estimated, ect.

Please understand that I am currently still working so there might be a bit of a wait for your piece.

I also have the right to request or deny any request that I am not comfortable writing.

I can’t wait to see what you all send in :)

42 notes · View notes

realityescapee01 · 3 years ago

Text

Not what I expected

Stiles x Reader (female)

Y/N is Stiles's soulmate. Y/N is sure about that. Because no other guy within her vicinity is named Mieczyslaw Stilinski.

In this world, if you are close to your soulmate, in a 2 meter radius, his name would be imprinted on your wrist. That's what happened to Y/N when she had a class with Stiles. And sat right next behind him.

She had always liked Stiles but she was so shy that she kept her distance. This is the closest she's been to Stiles.

Y/N was shaking a little bit when she saw the name on her wrist. She quickly covered it. Then he saw Stiles turning to look at her. Stiles held out his wrist to show Y/N, Y/N also held up hers.

Y/N was smiling, and Stiles was... well, he could be 'no filter' sometimes.

"You are it? My soulmate?" -disappointment could be heard from his tone.

Y/N's smile faded and covered her wrist again. Stiles realizing, quickly apologized.

"Sorry, it's just... not what I expected."

"I-It's okay... I'm sorry I'm not Lydia." -Y/N said.

"Uhm..." -Stiles wanted to say sorry again but the teacher walked in.

The class went on, with Y/N observing Stiles. Stiles pulled his flannel sleeve over his wrist, covering it. Y/N was hurt that the guy she's crushing on since freshman year -turned out to be her soulmate- but he doesn't seem to return the feelings. So Y/N... covered her wrist with band aid.

It's not always love at first sight or instant attraction when you discover your soulmate. You still have to get to know them, you know, the works and all that, the imprint on your wrist is just a little nudge of help to a happily ever after.

Stiles clearly doesn't like her. She looked at her appearance on the restroom mirror. She doesn't have smooth, fair skin like Lydia. She doesn't have strawberry blonde hair. She doesn't have baby pink lips. She doesn't have stunning green eyes. She doesn't have curvaceous body. She doesn't have awesome wardrobe. She doesn't have a sweet sounding voice. Everything Stiles like.

She has the opposites. She has honey brown skin. Black hair. Black color eyes. She's slim. A little small in the chest and hips department. Her parents always say, she's still young, she still has growing to do. But she can't help to compare herself to other girls that clearly did more growing than her.

Lydia then walked in the restroom. Y/N took a breath and walked out of there. She sighed the moment she was out the door. Finding Stiles a little steps outside. Of course. Lydia was there. Y/N turned to the opposite direction. Stiles stopped her.

"Hey, I'm sorry. It's just that... I wasn't expecting to meet my soulmate today. You know, most people meet theirs about college or at work."

"Yeah... It's okay."

"Uhm, I just... wanna make things clear. I don't hate you. It's good that we met earlier than most, but I just have some other things I'm busy about." -Stiles pertaining to Scott being a new werewolf.

"Okay. I get it... I'll cover this up." -Y/N pointing at her Stiles-labeled wrist.

"Look, I'm really sorry it wasn't like a fairy tale meeting."

"No, Stiles. I get it. But I wanted to tell you... I like you since last year, freshman year. And I was really glad to know you're my soulmate. I don't wanna force it on you. We don't have to act on it right away. But we are soulmates for a reason."

"Y-Yeah."

Lunch bell sounded off and Y/N was thankful for that. She smiled at Stiles and walked off towards her group of friends. And Stiles walked off to his.

They went about highschool like that. Just civil to one another. Having to work together on group projects sometimes. Stiles was busy with the supernatural stuffs, Y/N made herself busy by joining the girls' soccer team. She never told her friends about Stiles, and it seems Stiles also never told Scott and his other friends.

Stiles got into a relationship with Malia. Y/N got together with Brett. Having met him during a lacrosse game. Calling her: Zendaya. Brett always found Y/N beautiful. Brett always told her: you're my supermodel, you know. And Y/N would always not believe it. Having a low self esteem. Brett always making it better by making her feel really beautiful. Brett knew about Stiles. And their talk about them being soulmates. Brett liked Y/N a lot. And Y/N adored him. But eventually they drifted apart.

Stiles broke up with Malia. Then he got together with Lydia. They went strong together until Lydia met her soulmate. Leaving Stiles because she knew it was inevitable. It was bound to happen.

Scott, after many relationships, finally found his soulmate. And was hanging with Stiles nursing his broken heart.

"Oh, Stiles. I just wish you'd meet yours soon."

Stiles just stared at Scott.

"I just wished I met mine sooner, you know. We could have spend more time together then. Like... in highschool. All that teenager stuff. Going to prom, the winter formal, the dance. Celebrating winning games. First dates. First kiss. First.. time... Making every teenage dream come true, you know?"

Stiles finished his bottle of liquor. "I did."

"What?"

"I met her." -Stiles removed his thick leather bracelet that was covering Y/N's name the whole time.

"WHAT?!?" -Scott took Stiles's wrist.

"Y/N L/N? Isn't she with us in highschool?"

"Yup."

"Stiles! Why didn't you get together with her then?!?"

"I was... I was too young, stupid, and selfish."

Stiles thought back to what Scott said. He could've been living a fairly tale love story since highschool. Then he remembered Y/N was never in any school dance. She never attended. She didn't experience all the giddiness of dressing up and going out with a date to the dance. Scott also went on and on about it, scolding Stiles.

Then he started telling Scott what him and Y/N talked about this soulmate thing.

"Oh god, Stiles!... You have to find her!" -Scott standing Stiles up from the bar stool.

"Wh-right now? Are you fuckin serious?" -Stiles elbowed him off.

"Well, you have a point. But you are soulmates, eventually you'll find each other again. Stiles... I know she looks nothing like Lydia. But she's beautiful on her own! I swear, the universe put you two together for a reason. There's nothing like it, Stiles. When you finally fall in love with your soulmate."

"Yeah. Okay okay." -Stiles paid for their drinks and walked off with Scott.

Scott drove Stiles back to his apartment. Before he left.

"Scott? Do you think... she'd be happy to see me?"

"... You're soulmates Stiles. Of course she will."

---

The next day, Him, Scott and his soulmate met up and hangout in Scott's place. They watched movies and ate pizza. Then Scott started talking about Stiles and Y/N.

"Wait!!! Y/N? As in Y/N L/N?!? -Scott's soulmate asked with wide eyes.

"You know her???" -Stiles leaned forward.

"Yeah! She's a co-worker."

"Ohmygod, Stiles! See?!? You were meant for each other." -Scott patted his chest.

"Well... I-I... how is she?"

Stiles started asking questions. How is she now, how long was she working there. What does she do? Etc etc. Scott's soulmate then pulled up her IG and showed Y/N to Stiles. She then started going on and on about how Y/N was popular when she started working, mainly because people there are obsessed with Zendaya and they associate Y/N to her. She also said that Y/N was so humble about it. Not really believing them.

"But Stiles! You gotta move. There's this guy that likes her. And they're super close. He always has coffee for her every morning. Always walking to work with her. Always talking to her at breaktimes. Basically, he's all over her."

"D-Does she like him back?"

"I don't know. Kind of, I guess. I mean she's not harsh to him or whatever."

---

Stiles started browsing Y/N's IG account. Y/N doesn't posts much of herself. Mostly her drawings and her cat's photos. There is one selfie though. Posted a year ago: her hair was dyed. Her face covered with emoji. The caption says: this was red a few weeks ago. now it's strawberry blonde. ha! It is a lovely color. I get him now.

Stiles got it. Strawberry blonde is Lydia's hair, the -him- is Stiles. He looked at the comments. Mostly saying it looks good on her. But others are also saying her natural black hair is beautiful. Stiles scrolled down some more and saw an old selfie, from highschool, this time, Y/N's face is not covered. She was showing off her lipstick. In raw burgundy. It complimented her skintone. Stiles noticed just now how plump and kissable Y/N's lips were. He then saw Brett's comment saying: -don't delete. you're beautiful. I love you.- This must be from when they were dating. He wondered, how Y/N felt when Brett passed away. Stiles stopped scrolling then.

He found himself checking Y/N's IG every day and refuses to call it stalking. When he wakes up, he checks her IG first more than his. Checking posts and tagged posts too.

Stiles was on his way to a convention. And headed straight to the star wars booth to buy a limited edition baby Yoda figure. It's the last one. He grabbed it... with another hand grabbing it too.

"Stiles?" "Y/N?"

The two stared at each other, while holding the last baby Yoda figure. Stiles let go of the figure's box. "Y-You could have it."

"Are you sure?" -Y/N's hand never leaving the figure's box

"Yeah."

So Y/N did. She got baby Yoda and paid for it. Stiles was just watching her the whole time.

'Ohmygod! Y/N? She likes star wars too?!?' Stiles kept observing Y/N. She had bought quite a handful of stuff. Things Stiles also like. Then he looked at Y/N's shirt. It's the partner shirt of his own star wars shirt. It's a series of shirt that has a partner shirt. Stiles can't help but smile at the so many things they have in common. Soulmate.

"So, Stiles, uhm. Thanks for giving me the last baby Yoda."

"Y-Yeah! No problem... I didn't know you like those too... and our shirts..."

"Oh, yeah." -Y/N started laughing.

Stiles's nervousness disappeared. He found himself going around the convention with Y/N. Checking out every booth they find interest it, not surprisingly, the same booths. They started talking about Star Wars and other series. Stiles was surprised to know they do like a lot of the same things. And have the same opinion on the same things. Stiles enjoyed it, a lot. It's been a long time since he talked about his obsessions so freely with someone who understands it. Scott doesn't exactly serve that.

"That was fun, huh?" -Stiles now have a handful of things bought in the convention too.

"Yeah... I never thought I'd see you here, Stiles."

"Yeah. You too."

Then it was silent. Awkwardly so. Stiles noticed that Y/N still covers her wrist where his name is. Same for him, he has the bracelet over Y/N's name.

"Uhm, hey, how about we grab lunch together?" -Stiles invited.

"Okay."

They agreed on the same fast-food chain. And ordered the same things. With curly fries too. They sat there for hours, talking. Even after they finished their meal. They haven't seen each other for years, but it didn't matter. They talked as if they've talked everyday for many years. It was so natural. It made him so happy. And he could see Y/N is too.

When it started to get crowded in the fast food, they left. They walked around the mall where the convention was. Silent this time. Just walking. Beside each other. Then Y/N asked about a famous topic of discussion in one of the series they follow. This time they have different opinions about it. But they never fought. They just laugh as they outsmart each other on the other's opinion. Enjoying the difference. It was nice. It was a healthy debate. Stiles loves a healthy banter.

Stiles doesn't want the day to end but it will. He wanted to stay with Y/N a little more. He asked her if she has something planned for dinner. She said no. So Stiles asked her to dinner too. Stiles didn't like it to be in a fast food again. This time he wants it in a restaurant.

"Ohmygod! The jeep is still alive!" -Y/N tapped the jeep's hood.

"You remembered." -Stiles opened the door for her.

"Of course! I always look for it in the parking lot to know if you're in school."

Stiles just smiled "Get in."

Y/N was more than happy too. She always fantasized about riding in this jeep with Stiles back in highschool. Going on a roadtrip or late night drives going nowhere.

Stiles drove to a chinese restaurant, he remembered from Y/N's IG post that she likes chinese food. They got a table and menu. Stiles stared at Y/N across him. He noted the changes on Y/N since highschool. She was a little taller, but still half a head shorter than him. Her hair kept the natural dark color and wavy. She wore glasses now with red frame. Her lips looked fuller. Stiles could only imagine how soft they are. She gained a little weight but still slim. Stiles swore he should get his eyes checked because he sees Y/N looked up to him and talk, in slow motion.

"Stiles? Stiles!"

"Huh? What?"

"I'm ready to order."

"Alright."

As they did in the fast food, they stayed and talked after finishing their food. It was late already, the restaurant is closing. The day is ending. Stiles didn't want to.

"Thank you, Stiles. I could take the train from here."

"No way, I'm driving you home."

On their way to Y/N's apartment, Y/N was singing along with the song on the radio. Stiles was too. It was the song 'a thousand miles'. They started laughing when they heard it because they remember the movie with Terry Crews singing with it. Stiles never laughed so hard like that since highschool. There were tears in his eyes.

"Oh, wait. Turn here." -Y/N heaved. "Stop here... well, I'm off. Thank you for today, Stiles. It was so nice to see you again."

"You too."

Their day ended. Y/N was out of his jeep, walking toward her apartment entrance. Stiles felt weariness in his stomach. He can't settle down. He has to make sure he'll see Y/N again. He'll hang out with Y/N again. He'll discover Y/N, little by little, get to know her more... He hopped out the jeep and chased Y/N.

"Y/N!" -Stiles grabbed Y/N's wrist. "Hey, wait."

"Stile-"

Stiles leaned down and kissed Y/N. And oh he was right, those full lips felt so soft.

"S-Stiles?" -Y/N asked when he broke the kiss.

Stiles looked her deep in the eyes, he lifted his wrist, showing Y/N's name on it -he had removed the bracelet covering it. He then grabbed Y/N's wrist and took the band aid off that was covering his name. No need for those now. He's ready. Y/N is ready. They're ready.

Stiles pressed his forehead on Y/N's own. "... I'll come by tomorrow. I'll take you on a date."

"Yeah... I would love that."

-+-+-+ ( complete ) +-+-+-