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semicolonsspace · 7 months

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Stubborn Brat

Warnings: none, it's fluffy. (Cutesy and shit)

Valentine's Day. The worst holiday ever to be made to mankind.

Every year, it never fails to disappoint me.

No one will ask me.

I push out of my self-deprecating thoughts and go to my last class; My free period. During my free periods I go to the lacrosse field to read, but today, the lacrosse team was out there practicing for the big charity game that's coming up. "Hey, Sti," I yell as I wave as he runs toward me. He was out of breath, sweaty hair matted to his forehead. He looked hot, and I always teased him for it. I smirk at him, "Oh my bad, I didn't not Mister Hottie was out to play today," I joke.

Stiles rolls his eyes and points to his water bottle. It was a Mets bottle with the printed signatures of the team. I had gotten it for him years ago when I learned he liked them. I was 10, and I saved up and got him it and asked him to be my friend. He immediately accepted my offer and jumped on me screaming that I was the best.

I grab the famous bottle and toss it to him. He squirts the water in his mouth and some on his face. "Thanks" he mumbles before wiping his face from water and sweat. So, what's your plan for this stupid Valentine's Day?"

I glare at him in response. I plopped my body down onto the bench, and I couldn't help but notice his eyes watching my breast. Great day to wear a deep V-neck, I thank my morning self. "I was hoping to hang out with my best friend," I say in a teasing annoyed voice. I was talking about Stiles. "But it seems he doesn't want to," I add feigning annoyance, teasing him.

Stiles laughs and playfully elbows my side. "You know you're the only person I'd like to hang out with today, you brat," he chuckles, with a playful grin. He sits down with me, placing his bottle back in his bag. Then he pulls my body toward him. I laugh and lay my head on his shoulder. "What do you want to do today?"

I blow a raspberry and look at him. My eyes had a playful glare to them. I knew we couldn't do what I wanted to do, mostly because I was too scared to tell him that I liked him. "I have no idea." I think a bit before adding. "Maybe we can watch that princess movie you talked about yesterday."

"The Princess Bride?" he asks as he wraps his arm around me with a content smile. "Sure, I'd be more than happy to rewatch it with you. However, I think this movie is more of a date movie. You don't have any boyfriends you could watch it with instead?"

I glare at him and then sigh. I squint my eyes after a few seconds. "You know damn well I don't have a boyfriend, Stiles," I grumble. I take a breath before adding to that. "My standards are too high and I'm pretty much a nobody," I laugh. I poke his side and ask him something. "What about you? Do you have anyone you wanna ask to be your Valentine?"

We laugh together as he shakes his head. "I'm in the same boat as you, honey," he sighs breathily as he wraps his other arm around me, ultimately scooting me closer to him. "If I could ask anyone it would be you."

As he says this he glances down at me with weary eyes, his brown doe-like eyes staring straight into mine. I shudder. All of a sudden my mouth runs dry. Did he just say what I think he just said?

After that brief pause, my eyes widened. "Really? You'd ask me?" I choke out. A beat of silence goes by, I fill it up with more words. "Well, what's stopping you?"

Stiles gives me a hearty chuckle, the famous curve of his lips returning. He glances at Scott in the distance and Scott gives him a thumbs-up with a cheeky smile.

Stiles sighs and moves hair out of my face with his slender fingers. I couldn't say anything more. I couldn't bring myself to do so. He had always moved hair out of my face, but this time it felt different. More intimate. I want him to do it again.

"You're my best friend; I don't want to mess it up... I couldn't bear losing you."

I think for a moment, my emotions being displayed on my face: anxiety, excitement, relief, and hope.

"Why don't we make a promise? That whatever happens... if it doesn't work out, we will work it through and continue being friends?" I ask softly. Hopeful. My voice cracked as I spoke with such anxiety I never thought I could experience.

Stiles' mouth runs dry in return. After a second he nods his head once. "If you promise to sell be my friend, no matter what, then I would be happy to ask you to be my valentine," he reiterates softly.

"Even through ash and dust, Stiles. I promise," I answer immediately. I smile cup his face into my small hands and kiss his sweaty forehead. "You aren't getting rid of me. I did hard work to be friends with you... I had to beg for weeks to get my uncle to give me a copy of his Mets signatures. Then get that on a water bottle. I didn't do that for nothing," I smirk playfully.

Stiles hums happily and returns the forehead kiss. I gush, blood rushing to my face as he began to speak. "You were always a stubborn brat," he chuckles, wrapping you in a tight hug. I feel his heart beat quickly, his breath quickening as he holds me in his arms. This is a core memory, I thought as I stared back into his beautiful brown eyes.

"Now I'm your brat," I whisper nervously.

"My brat," he hums deeply, still hugging me tight. "You know you're really cute when you act like a brat?" He asks as he leans his head against mine. He loosens his hug before squeezing a few times to show affection.

"That's because I'm me and you just think I'm cute, regardless of the way I act," I voice in joking confidence as I flip my hair in dramatic.

He laughs, rolls his eyes, and glances at Scott that was on the field. I glance at Scott as well. "True; I think you're cute whatever you do. Especially when you're angry. Basically... you're cute when you're being a pain in the ass as well," he teases as he rubs my lower back reassuringly.

"Me being a pain in the ass makes things interesting and you know it!" I blurt laughing loudly, causing a few people to stare.

"Eyes off her, Lahey," Stiles Barks angrily.

"Yeah yeah, I know, she's yours, blah blah," I hear in the distance from Isaac. "I heard the conversation," he grumbles as he waves his hand to get Stiles off his back.

"Are you going to be more protective like that? If so, let all of it go because that was hot," I say honestly, a smirk on my face as I continue to watch Stiles glare at Isaac walk away. Stiles was taken aback and slowly turned his head down to me. "Of course, you would like that, you practically fangirled when Kylo Ren had a temper episode."

I cut him off with a scoff. "He is hot and you know it, Kyle Ren and Annikan are two beautiful men that me and other women would gladly kneel for!" I explain in a loud whisper. There was no way I could scream that without people judging me.

Stiles shakes his head with a smile. "What if I said Leia is hot, hmm? Or Rey?" He asks sassily.

I stand my ground and agree with a hum. "I would agree with you, those two women are also very hot." He looks at me for a second, opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. I shrug at him with a "Don't ask, I don't know either but I stand by what I said" face.

"STILINSKI, GET YOUR ASS BACK ON THE FIELD AND STOP EMBARRASSING YOURSELF IN FRONT OF THAT GIRL," Coach screams across the field.

I giggle and whisper in Stiles' ear. "I can kiss you to show him you aren't embarrassing yourself if you'd like." He nods immediately. "Cheek or lips?"

"Lips," he says with heart eyes. I stand quickly and pull him up.

"STILINSKI," Coach yells again.

I take a step closer to Stiles, grabbing his hands and interlocking them. I stand on my tippy toes and lean up to kiss him. Multiple eyes were on me, and I was nervous, but as soon as his lips touched mine there was nothing. Nothing but me and my best friend.

I pull back with a smile, my lips wet from the kiss. "Go practice, soldier," I laugh at his hearty expression. He salutes, "Yes Sergeant," he yells.

"I'm not in Rotc anymore, dipshit," I laugh. He shrugs and pecks my lips a few times, humming between them and going back for more. I mess up his hair and shove him off. "Go practice, dummy!"

After practice, Stiles came running to me and squeezed me so tight I struggled to breathe. "Alright strong me, I need air," I struggled to speak. He let me go, apologized and kissed my face everywhere. "I missed my girl," he whispers to me.

"You were just here like 30 minutes ago," I laughed, kissing his cheek back briskly.

He gave me a look like I was dumb. "You just gave me the best kiss of my life and told me to go; our first kiss, to be specific. Of course, I'm going to miss you. I'd miss you if I didn't see you for 10 seconds," he shrugs, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

"You're a dork."

"And you're a brat."

"Brat tamer."

"Nerd."

"Dumb-head."

I gasp at him playfully. "You take that back! I am not a dumb-head," I exclaim with a playful hurt pout.

Scott walked passed us saying: "Yeah, that was uncalled for, Stiles." Scott had a playful grin on his face and Stiles shoved him before returning to hug me.

"Give me another kiss and I'll think about taking it back," Stiles smirks down at me. Scott raises his eyebrows and covers his eyes.

I laugh at the two dorks. I cup Stiles' chin and guide his mouth to connect with mine. Once again, I forgot that other people were near. I only realized that there were people near when I heard some of the lacrosse team members cheer for Stiles. I pull back with a smile, breaking into a laugh at the childish team members I've grown to be familiar with and adore. "Shove off Greenburg, Johnson, Garcia, Austin, you too, don't think you're hidden behind the bench," I laugh, using the member's name.

"You're not allowed to call him Austin, it's Vaught."

I roll my eyes at Stiles and glance back to Austin. "Vaught, shove off." I then look back to Stiles and ask with sass, "Better? Pretty boy?" He nods quickly and pecks my lips, humming with approval and kissing it again and again. "Stiles!"

"I'm sorry," he laughs. I smack his ass, something I do all the time. He squeaks in and runs with Scott as well as his team members who were waiting for him to go to the locker room. I watch him laugh and jump on Scott's back. A few of the members jumped on his back as well and ended up dog-piling. "Boys! Go shower, y'all stink!" I laugh. A few of them laugh and call me mom and I just flip them off.

This was fun to write. And so cute as well. I hope you enjoyed it, I love y'all babes! <3<3<3 Happy Valentine's Day!!!

#valentines day #dylan o'brien #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #tw #stiles #stiles x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski fluff #bestfriend! stiles stilinski #bestfriend! stiles #teen wold fluff #stiles x reader fluff

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dcangel · 7 months

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Valentine’s day poison

this one’s rough, so just remember it’s what yall asked for (don’t hate me)

thinking about motorcycle boyfriend!stiles who tells you he’s going out for a ride and won’t tell you where and won’t let you go with him. You obviously got a little upset that he wouldn’t tell you where he was going, and it wasn’t one of those stray rides where he just rides for miles on the outskirts of beacon hills for no reason other than personal pleasure, it was a little sketchy, like he was hiding something from you.

You knew stiles well, and you knew the tell tale signs of his lies or when he wouldn’t answer some questions. He didn’t seem to feel the need to explain himself or try and make you feel a little better before he left, so he just gave you a quick peck on the forehead and told you he loved you, and you bluntly said it back. You tried not to let your annoyance show, but the petty and insecure sides of you were quickly becoming a good fit together, so you gave him a half hearted “have fun” whilst saying “I love you” back.

He grabbed his keys off the rack and his coat, helmet already in hand, and pulled the door closed behind him as he walked out. Stiles was acting weird today, and not his normal type of weird. It wasn’t the clingy, touchy-feely, goofball, golden retriever boyfriend type of behavior he always sported, he was closed off and secretive today.

You stayed sitting on his couch, pillow on your lap as your hands sunk deeper into the plush cushion over time. Your eyes unfocused as your mind slipped into the irrational state of overthinking. Fine, whatever. You’d just wait for him to come back and let him decide which path he wanted to go down. You told yourself you wouldn’t worry about it. It was later’s problem.

The remote was on the oak coffee table, so you picked it up and turned the tv on, aimlessly flicking through the channels until you had no choice but to settle on something. Of course it was star wars. As if the universe couldn’t’ve tried to get under your skin more, stiles’ police radio scanner in the dining room (that he wasn’t supposed to have) made crackling static noises before a dispatch voice came over and began speaking. The distance between you and the radio caused the words to be incoherent, and you didn’t feel like listening to whomever speaking about what was most likely a drunk driver or, knowing beacon hills, some “dog-man” running around the streets again. So you got up to turn it off, trying to keep the small woven blanket on your body as you trudged over to stiles’ dining room.

But when you got closer you could make out what they were saying: “Crash reported on route 115, paramedics already en route. How many vehicles involved?”

“Just one: a, uh, navy blue motorbike by the looks of it. I’m about fifty feet out, I’ll be sure to update the ambulance that’s on its way if needed.”

It took a second to connect the dots, but when you realized you were already picturing that exact bike that you had ridden on so many times, your heart absolutely dropped, and so did your blanket. Your heart sank so hastily that you choked on the air in your throat. Breathing felt like a task, a privilege. It felt like your lungs were fighting your throat to let the air through, to allow it to cool down the blazing fire that ignited in your gut, churning every organ in your body.

Every movement you made: the first step you took before your shaky legs took off towards the door, not even wavering at the way your foot tripped on the rug and nearly took you out, and how your sweaty palms grabbed the keys to Roscoe, how you ran to his jeep parked in his driveway, sharp pebbles feeling like they were piercing your sock-clad feet since you didn’t even think of putting shoes on—all of it, it all took years. Each step, each breath was an eternity of its own; toddlers grew up, graduated highschool, fell in love, had kids over their own. Grew old together. It was all eternities of their own that taunted you with a fate you might not get to have now, a fate that was possibly whisked away, stolen from right under your nose.

You didn’t notice how the jeep was brutally hot, stiles having left the heat on to conserve gas or whatever the last time he used it, or how it was practically running on fumes because of how long it’d been since he filled the tank, or how you were speeding, running red lights that belonged to roads which were thankfully empty. If you had noticed all that, then you probably wouldn’t be surprised if by chance a cop that lurked on side roads pulled out to catch people you now fit the description of. Speeders, reckless drivers, law breakers. Though, they probably would’ve been well aware of the cyan jeep the sheriff’s son drove by now.

The scanner was on in his jeep as well, and your fingers fiddled with the dials, trying to land on the same channel as the one in the house.

Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive.

Your hands probably left a thin sheen of sweat on the steering wheel as your fingers gripped it tight like your life depended on it, your knuckles turning white from the pressure.

The traffic up ahead was completely halted, and you knew why. Out of pure anxiety and stress, you screamed at the people in front of you to go. As if they’d actually hear you, as if you weren’t stuck in completely backed up traffic. You thought about pulling off to the side and just riding in the breakdown lane, but there was orange cones not too far ahead, and not much further from that were the flashing lights on the back of a parked ambulance.

Fuck it.

You swerved two lanes to pass over the rumble strip that separated the breakdown lane from the others, and threw Roscoe in park. You practically fell out of the jeep and onto the pavement below. Your nearly-bare feet painfully hit the pebbled cement below, yet you couldn’t feel a thing. Surely your feet were impaled by the rocks, sticks, nuts and bolts and trashed car parts from previous wrecks on the side of the road as you ran at impossible speeds, feeling like your legs were moving to fast for your body. The death wobbles that came with riding a skateboard resembled the feeling in your thighs, and any second now, you’d come tumbling down and roll on the dirty road. You probably looked like some psycho on crack as you ran with every single fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, while unknowingly crying like an idiot.

Swerving the neon orange cones, you almost slammed into the back of the ambulance when you got there, but avoided it in time. Right away, there were cops holding you back, telling you that this was a crash scene and to go back to your car. But it was clear from the way you threw yourself at them repeatedly in hopes that their grip would falter, and by the intense lock your eyes had on the mirror of stiles’ motorcycle, the rest of it nowhere in sight, and by the flood pouring down your cheeks, that you weren’t just some rubber-necking stranger who wanted a closer view to tell all their friends they saw an intense crash today.

“it’s stiles! stiles stilinski!” you cried, pleading with your looks for the officers to let you by.

“stilinski? you mean—”

“yes, stilinski.”

one of the men let you go, but the other stayed in front of you; trying to talk you down from storming an active crash investigation.

the man who walk away pulled his radio from his vest, speaking into it after letting out a sigh heavy with regret. “we know who the victim is.” he paused, preparing for the sheriff to potentially be listening on one of the other lines. “seventeen year old male, stiles stilinski.”

silence came from the other side, nothing but static from the other line being open at least.

“paramedics still en route. do you think you’ll need them? we can have them bring back up.”

you heard the cop sigh, and even from behind you could see him being his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “we, uh, we haven’t found him yet. my guess is he lost control and hit something. probably ejected from his seat into the woods.”

as he got closer to you and the other cop, motioning for him to release you for the time being, you heard a familiar voice in the background of the other line. “accident?”

“yes, sir. a wreck on route 115.”

“damn highway gets everyone. who’s involved?”

even through the janky radio speaker you could still hear the female dispatch on the other end hesitate. “motorcycle wreck involving a, um, s-seventeen year old male. your son, sir.”

“what? you’re saying stiles crashed his motorcycle.”

“it’s a wreck. lance said he wrecked it. i’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m heading down there. Tell lance I’m on my way.” The sheriff said, his voice set in stone. It only made you feel the tiniest bit better, but it was something.

At least now you’d have a person here just as concerned as you, if not more.

The other officer let you through after putting up with your begging for about ten minutes. Not without radioing the sheriff first, though.

“What, are you insane? Let the girl in!” A voice on the other end chastised. It was the voice you needed to hear second most.

You took off after they let you past their neon cones, heading directly to the motorcycle that a few officers were pulling from a ditch. His bike was wrecked. And stiles was nowhere in sight.

as you neared his bike, shimmering navy blue under the sun like it chose its time to shine, you noticed something. a small red box, all dented in with dirt and debris stuck in the fuzzy velvet. yet somehow its contents hadn’t spilled.

your fingers trembled as you reached out for the object, an affect of your inevitable break down. or maybe it had already started. the small hinges groaned as the box struggled to open.

and inside, resting there so prettily on even smoother black velvet, was a silver necklace. a charm hung on the end of the chain; a small heart with and even smaller note engraved on it.

I’ve told the moon about you every night since the day we met. I made sure it’ll never forget.

how’s that for “it’s not what you think”😁

and i had absolutely no clue what to put for the quote, so i made one up.

i’ve had this in my drafts forever and was debating on finishing it fully, but i panicked and forgot i needed to upload it tonight so now we have room for a part 2 if yall want

also i’m willing to do an actual motorcycle boyfriend!stiles fic that IS what you think if yall want

heavily unedited

#i’m sorry #happy valentine’s day though😁#stiles’!world #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #dylan obrien #stiles stilinski teenwolf #stiles’s!world #valentines day

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