#boydstiles

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vernon Boyd/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Vernon Boyd, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Fluff, Pregnant Stiles Summary:

I wanna stretch my writing fingers some more so if you enjoy my work feel free do drop me an ask with a shop + prompt and/or setting

I write all kinds of Stiles ships, I'm open do Deter and Petopher, multiships and whatnots

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Vernon Boyd, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Mpreg, Food, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship Summary:

“Why am I always the one carrying you?” Boyd asks but Stiles knows it’s rhetorical. It has to be. Especially since with Boyd carrying Stiles piggy pack he can’t see the incredulous look Stiles is giving him.

“I mean, I could just ask Peter or Derek to help me out instead if it’s such an inconvenience,” Stiles drawls. He’s annoyed, sue him. He didn’t ask for the troll to trample his foot in the middle of the fucking woods. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Boyd amends mulishly.

“What did you mean then? Because I’m pretty convinced that you’d squish me with all your muscle if I tried to give you a lift. Unless you’d rather I take the Bite so I can carter you around. I mean, I’d be happy to sweep you off your feet.”

Okay, so maybe he’s a little more than just annoyed but he hates being constantly reminded how weak and fragile he is. He’s hurting already, he doesn’t need his boyfriend thinking less of him at this moment in time.

Boyd doesn’t answer right away, speed walking the last of the distance to Stiles’ Jeep and gently helping Stiles to get into the passenger’s seat. Only when he’s able to look at Stiles he finally answers.

“I really didn’t mean it like that, baby,” Boyd promises. He puts a hand on Stiles’ knee rubbing his thumb over the denim of Stiles’ pants even as he drains more of Stiles’ pain. “You know I love you just the way you are. I just hate it when you get hurt. And it has nothing to do with you being human,” Boyd hurries to clarify, “I’d be just as worried if you were a werewolf, same as you worry about me.

“But I shouldn’t have made that comment without clarifying what I mean right away,” Boyd says and Stiles really can’t stay mad at him when he’s so earnestly remorseful.

He inclines his head and Boyd immediately complies, kissing him sweetly.

“Apology accepted,” Stiles says, then tacks on, “but only if we get ice cream once we’re done at the doctor’s.”

Boyd seems to agree but he does so with a kiss. 

--

i know nothing about ice skating, so i hope this is okay!

--

“Babe, I’m not too sure about this,” Stiles says and he hasn’t even stepped on the ice yet. he’s still on the bench, ice skates on, his left foot in Boyd’s lap as he makes sure Stiles tied them right.

Boyd rolls his eyes at him, but his smile is fond. He pats Stiles’ ankle letting Stiles know he’s done and waits for Stiles to put his other leg in Boyd’s lap. He doesn’t comment on how slowly and carefully Stiles does it, aware of how sharp the blades are. 

“Stiles,” Boyd starts pushing Stiles’ leg off his lap and standing, reaching for Stiles’ hands to help him up, “you face off with vampires and trolls armed only with a baseball bat, but learning to skate while wearing knee pads has you freaked out?”

“I’m not stepping on blades in battle!” Stiles defends.

“True, but you don’t tie your shoelaces and that never stopped you.”

Stiles puts at Boyd, “That’s different!”

“Is it? You can trip and land on your ass in both scenarios,” Boyd says and Stiles can’t really argue with that logic. Not that Boyd gives him an opportunity for it, as he pulls Stiles onto the ice. He tugs at Stiles until he’s pressed right against Boyd’s chest and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “The difference is that we got the rink to ourselves and I’ll be here to hold your hand and keep your butt safe.”

“You’d better,” Stiles replies after leaning in for another, this time proper, kiss, “or you won’t be touching my ass any time soon.”

“Quit it or I’ll bite,” Boyd whispered after Stiles poked him in the ribs for the hundredth time. He intercepted Stiles’ hand when his fiance was about to stab a finger into his side again, despite the threat, and just held onto it.

“But I’m bored,” Stiles whisper-whined and tugged at their hands, but more to be a brat than actually break away.

“Baby, we’re planning our wedding,” Boyd replied, but he couldn’t help agreeing.

“Nu-uh, Lydia and Peter are planning our wedding,” Stiles said, giving up all pretense and slumping against Boyd, “I don’t even know why we’re here, it’s not like they take any of our suggestion after all the hard no’s we agreed on at the start.”

Boyd hummed, unable to argue with that. It’s been over an hour and after the first fifteen minutes, Lydia and Peter stopped turning to them or asking for their input when it came to seating arrangements, dishes, etc. 

In fact, as long as they got an outdoor wedding, got to wear white tuxes and the cake had a lot of chocolate in it, and Boyd and Stiles were husbands at the end of the day, Boyd didn’t care about the planning at all and neither did Stiles. Especially since Derek offered to cover all the expenses, as his gift to them.

So, honestly, Boyd and Stiles could just as well not be here to listen to Lydia and Peter humming and having about the cutlery.

“C’mon,” Boyd said, slipping out of his chair and tugging a very willing Stiles with him, “Let’s leave them to it.”

the others didn’t spark anything so i went with this one.

--

“Więź uczuć nieprzerwana, służyć mi będzie,

Twe serce załata na prędce.

Odejść przede mną Ci nie pozwolę,

Żyć będziesz póki mam wolę.”

--

Boyd doesn’t remember the fight at Derek’s loft and he chalks it up to being clumsy and getting electrocuted like the Alphas were meant to get. It must have been a close call because while the long hug and searing kiss from Stiles is expected, the way Derek and Isaac hold him later isn’t. 

For some reason, his belly feels tender. 

He doesn’t dwell on it.

--

Sometimes when he dreams he feels pain, sharp and piercing until it starts fading quickly. But as it fades a voice rises, swoops in through him and pulls at him until he’s awake. 

--

They’re facing mountain trolls this time and it’s a tedious fight because they’re as dumb as they are strong, their skin unpierceable. They’ve tried brute force and elaborate traps but all their efforts seem to be in vain, the trolls winning every battle like they’re driven forth, used as a battering ram. 

They’re flinging boulders and trees at the pack, another clearing getting destroyed in yet another fight, and even Stiles, so full of Lord of the Ring references until now has fallen silent. 

Boyd’s tired, even his werewolf stamina running low after so long and it makes him sloppy and distracted. He doesn’t see the spear-turned-tree in time, doesn’t see it until Stiles is yelling his name. There’s no escaping it so Boyd just closes his eyes and waits for impact. He hopes death will be painless and quick.

--

“I am not losing you again!”

--

When he wakes up this time he’s propped up against a rock, the that almost killed him nowhere in sight. He aches, but that’s about it because Peter is holding onto his arm and siphoning the pain away. He doesn’t know how he made out alive.

Boyd looks for Stiles who’d normally be at Boyd’s side at times like this, yelling at him to be more careful between tender, life-affirming kisses. He finds him easily enough flinging about two boulders and crushing skulls, his Spark a whirlwind of silver around him.

When they tell him Stiles used his magic to save him, hurling him out of the way, he doesn’t bat an eye. His boyfriend is a powerhouse.

--

The witches are always the worst, Boyd thinks as he skulks around the warehouse, glancing at the charm Stiles made for them all to detect wards every now and then. They always seem to go after Stiles first, drawn to his life force as Peter claims. 

“A Spark’s blood is supposed to be a delicacy”, Peter told them the other day, rolling his eyes when Stiles just flipped him off and snuggled up closer into Boyd’s side. 

“The only one allowed to suck me dry is my boo,” Stiles said, to the combined groans of half of the pack.

Boyd just sighed then. Now he wishes he’d kissed Stiles for all he’s worth because there are no wards in place, the witches are no longer here.

And Stiles seems to be almost completely gone as well.

Boyd rushes to his slumped form, spread on a metal table, traces of his blood spilled all over the place like the witches had more than enough and got sloppy with it.

Boyd can hardly tell if he’s breathing, tries to calm his shaking hands as he searches for a pulse, listens for the beating of a heart.

The thump of it is barely there and so slow and Boyd doesn’t know what else to do but call Stiles’ name, begging him to wake up, to hold on, to “Stay with me, please!”

Carefully, but as quickly as he can he gathers Stiles into his arms and almost loses his grip when he sees Stiles’ eyes are open but completely white. 

“Kiss me,” Stiles asks and his voice has an unfamiliar quality to it, raw and loud even if it doesn’t echo in the empty warehouse, “As long as you live I live.”

Boyd doesn’t question it, he’d never denied Stiles a kiss, never doubted his words. He leans in, presses his lips to Stiles’ and hopes Stiles is right.

--

“The binding of feelings unbroken will serve me

To make your heart once again whole.

You will not leave before me

You will live as long as I’ll will it to be so.”

--

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Boyd said, voice raised, and regretted it almost immediately when Stiles did shut up, his whole face closing down into an expressionless mask.

Boyd had seen the mask enough through the years, even before they got together, to know it for the defense mechanism it was. If Stiles didn’t show how much he hurt than surely, he could be hurt anymore? 

Way too often did people tell Stiles to shut up when all he did was hide behind words, when he was too smart for others to understand, when he was trying his best to help and Boyd never wanted to be one of them.

Suddenly, their fight didn’t make sense any longer.

“I’m sorry,” Boyd told him earnestly, “You were talking over me and I got frustrated because you wouldn’t listen, but I shouldn’t have said that. It was uncalled for and I’m sorry,” Boyd reiterated, slowly closing the distance between them when he saw Stiles’ expression soften. 

He reached out and when Stiles didn’t flinch away or make any move indicating he didn’t want to be touched, Boyd took Stiles’ hands in his, bringing them all the way up to his mouth, and pressing soft kisses to Stiles’ knuckles, all the time looking for a sign that Stiles might be uncomfortable being touched.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, too, it’s not my place to tell you to stay out of a fight,” Boys said, kissing Stiles’ knuckles once more before lowering their hands to hold them against his chest, “I just get so scared whenever you agree to play bait and it’s not that I don’t trust you to be able to handle it, Stiles, but I can’t help but think of all the ways the plan might go wrong and you getting hurt in the end.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles said softly, leaning in until their foreheads were pressed together, “The plan is risky and I shouldn’t have just sprung it on you like that and then bristled at you when you reacted the way you did. I’m sorry.” He tugged his hands free and brought his arms around Boyd’s waist, hugging him close. 

“It’s okay,” Boyd parroted, his arms wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders, tucking his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

They stayed like that for a moment, recalibrating and reaffirming themselves that the other was still there. Finally, it was Stiles who loosened his hold on Boyd first, but he didn’t go far, only leaning far enough so he could press a kiss to Boyd’s mouth. 

“I’ll do my best to stay safe,” Stiles promised.

Boyd smiled, kissed Stiles softly, told him, “I love you, too.”

--