stiles stilinski x reader, kissing stiles and the lipstick of yours transfers to his, laughing when doesn’t notice it.
c/w: kissing, fluff
ᥫ᭡
You’re kissing Stiles, well aware of the lipstick on your lips being transferred to his.
You snicker at every peck—lipstick reddening his lips. Stiles was too into the makeout to realize your ever so often giggling. Until now, where he’s about to faint from being so flustered. He parts his lips from yours, leaning back on his elbows.
You snicker once again, the lipstick shade matching his flushed cheeks. He raises a brow, confused.
“What?” He asks.
You take your phone out of your pocket, showing him his reflection.
“Oh.. my god.” He says, attempting to wipe the color off—but instead smearing it.
You laugh, trying to compose yourself to help him out. You lift your thumb to his lips, cleaning up any color that’s out of his lip line.
“Much better,” you respond.
Stiles puckers his lips, looking into the camera.
You snicker once again—“Do you feel.. Bonita?”
Stiles’ eyes quickly look to you, playful disappointment on his face.
You lose your composure, busting out laughing.
Stiles smiles, laughing with you.
“Yes, I feel very Bonita. Thank you.”
He kisses your cheek, planting a stain, and chuckles.
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THE QUIET HURTS. the quiet that came after laughter, the kind of quiet that used to fill every corner of your life. the kind that used to sound like him.
you used to talk to stiles stilinski about everything. every stupid thing in your life. the good days, the bad ones, the ‘whatever’ nights where you would be sitting in his jeep, music playing softly from the radio, and the air between you warm and fuzzy with something you had been too embarrassed to name.
but lately, you stopped.
you don’t stiles text back right away, you find excuses to not hang out with him, you immediately hide when he walks into a room. it’s not because you necessarily want to— it’s because you have to. because you love him, and you can’t stand how much it hurts anymore.
the issue started out insignificant. you told yourself it was a silly crush, that it would fade, like all the other boys you liked in your life.
but it didn’t quite go the way you wanted it to. it grew. it dug its claws in deep. it made a home in your heart, where it’s resided for a while now. —READ MORE!
and every time he looks at lydia— that soft, star struck gaze of affection that says she’s it, you feel something break deep within you.
you used to think you were strong enough to just be his best friend, but it’s like walking on nails now.
every laugh you share together, every secret whispered, and every time his body touches yours, it’s excruciatingly painful.
which brings you to your current predicament— you pull away. you convince yourself it’s better this way, he’ll be fine. he has scott, lydia, and the rest of your friends. he doesn’t need you, he’ll be perfectly fine without you!
you on the other hand, need space. space to get yourself to stop loving him.
except space doesn’t help like you thought it would. it only makes it worse.
now, because you don’t see him every day, you begin to miss him so much it physically aches in your chest.
you lie awake at night staring at the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling, trying not to think about the way he used to make you laugh until you were rasping for air, or how he would always find an excuse to drive you home, or how his voice used to sound when he said your name, softer and gentler than it had any right to be said.
it’s been weeks since you two have spoken. long enough that even scott has stopped asking if you’re doing okay.
you’re half asleep, thoughts finally drifting away when something clacks against your window.
you open your eyes immediately— freezing in fear, it’s way past midnight.
after a minute of silence, you think the lack of sleep has you hearing things, so you lay your head back onto your cushiony pillow until another loud clack hits the glass.
you push off your blanket and slowly walk towards your window, your body heavy with confusion and half asleep state that makes everything feel like your dreaming. when you pull your curtaina open, you see him.
stiles.
standing in the dark, glowing in the moonshine in his favourite hoodie and pajama pants, with a handful of pebbles in his right hand and a saddened expression painted on his face that makes your chest tighten.
he looks like maybe he hasn’t been sleeping well either.
you unlock your window, pushing it open, the chilly midnight air hitting your face. “stiles, what the hell are you doing?” you whisper, your voice raspy from the half slumber.
he grins a little, but it doesn’t look real. “hey.”
“‘hey?’ are you serious? it’s almost one in the morning!” you whisper shout.
“i know,” he replies. “i missed you.”
you blink, because you weren’t prepared for that. anything but that. “you… what?”
“i missed you.” he repeats, as if it were common sense, like it’s a thought that’s been weighing on his heart for far too long. “you’ve just been gone. and i don’t know what i did to make you so angry with me, but i hate it. i hate not being able to talk to you.”
you swallowed the lump in your throat. you should tell him to go back home. you should lock the window and crawl back into your bed and pretend none of this happened, but the sound of his familiar voice breaks something in you.
you sigh in defeat. “come up before someone sees you.”
he grins, excited but timid, and within seconds he’s climbing up the side of your house, the familiar dance he’s perfected over the years with being your best friend.
he stumbles through the window, breathless, his hair a mess, sticking up in different directions and suddenly he’s standing there in front of you, in your room, in your space, and it feels like everything you’ve been attempting to hold back is right there with him.
“hi,” he whispers, finally catching his breath.
“hi,” your fingers twitch beside you.
he looks around, at your desk cluttered with books, the picture frame of you and your friends, the one with him.
his eyes finally meet yours. “this feels weird,” he breaks. “not talking to you. you’re my best friend, and i don’t like it.” you cross your arms with the same ache you’ve been pushing away. “maybe that’s kind of the point, stiles.”
his brow furrows in confusion. “the point?”
you let out a small laugh in disbelief at how clueless he is. “god, you can’t be this dense.”
he blinks, growing more confused by the second. “what?”
“you don’t get it, do you?” your voice breaks a little, the exhaustion and heartbreak clawing at your chest. “i can’t be near you, stiles. i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay watching you fall in love with someone else.”
his jaw slacks open, but no words comes out.
you keep going because if you stop now, you’ll never get the truth out. “every time you talk about lydia, it’s like someone’s stomping on my heart repeatedly. i really tried to ignore it, i tried to just… be your best friend like you wanted— but i can’t. because i love you, okay? i love you, and it hurts too much to be with you.”
the silence after feels like hours as he stands there.
stiles just stares at you. there’s glimpses of shock, disbelief, and something you don’t know, and for a second, you think you’ve ruined everything you two have built over the years.
then he steps closer.
you freeze when his hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your cheek. “then you should know,” he says softly, voice whispering, “that i love you too.”
the world stops. “you… what?”
he gives a small laugh in disbelief. “i thought you knew. i thought it was so obvious— god, i’m such an idiot.”
you shake your head, the tears you’ve been holding back finally releasing. “you loved lydia.”
“i did,” he says. “or at least i thought i did. but it wasn’t like you and me. it wasn’t this—” he gestures between your bodies. “this thing you and me have that has been here for as long as i’ve known you.”
he steps closer until you can feel the warmth of his body radiating off him. “i missed you so much it made drove me crazy. i couldn’t sleep. i couldn’t—” his voice falters. “you’re not just my best friend. you’re everything to me.”
something in you breaks, all that distance, all that pretending, it disappears under the weight of his words.
he leans in, slow enough for you to stop him, but you don’t. you simply cannot, when he kisses you, it’s soft, slow, unrushed.
it’s not desperate and hungry, it’s simply just real. his lips are warm against yours, trembling nervously, and it feels like coming home after years of being away.
when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. his breath ghosts over your lips.
“you really didn’t know?” he whispers, his voice dripping with disbelief as he laughs.
you shake your head, still shocked by the sudden revelation “no. i thought you’d never feel the same way.”
his thumb wipes at the remnants of your tears away. “guess we were both idiots.”
you giggle softly in reply. “i guess so.”
he takes your hand, fingers intertwining with yours like they were always meant to. “don’t ever do that again,” he says quietly. “don’t disappear. don’t become a stranger.”
you meet his gaze, those eyes that have always been honest, carrying his emotions out in the open, and you nod. “i won’t.”
he smiles, that soft, adorable smile that makes your heart ache. “good.”
then he kisses you again, deeper this time around, his hand cradling the back of your neck, his other still holding yours. the night is silent. it’s yours.
when you finally pull back, you don’t need to say anything. you just rest your head against his chest, breathing him in, the scent of his hoodie, the faint smell of midnight rain in his hair.
for the first time in weeks, you finally feel calm. you feel at peace. you feel whole.
because stiles here.
because you aren’t best friends anymore.
because love doesn’t have to be grand, loud or perfect.
sometimes it’s just this unexpected feeling that sneaks up on you and changes the whole direction of life.
stiles presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “i don’t care what happens,” he whispers. “i’m not letting you fade away from me again.”
you close your eyes, smiling against his chest. “i promise i won’t.”
you stay wrapped in each other for the remainder of the night, things may be messy, you two may be too sleep deprived to actually process what’s going on, but it’s still perfect.
✧ 𝑓. fun fact stiles was one of my first real celebrity crushes 😜 also i’ve recently reread the bridgerton books and now i’m in such a good olden times romance book mood but i legit don’t know what to read if u have any recs plz help a girl out ! 🥲 also this was inspired by new years day by ts if u didn’t notice 🥸
𓂃ㅤ 𝓉𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ୨୧ @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @lcvealwayss @viennasolace ♡ thank you so much for joining !
Alright if I'm being so honest I just needed a lil break from all the Maze Runner fanfics and to do a small fic, (a bit of a pallet cleanser for me I guess), with Stiles Stilinski bc I love him
Context: You and Stiles have an established relationship
Warnings: Nothing, just fluff
Wordcount: 868
You woke up, groggy and tired in the middle of the night lying on top of your boyfriend's chest. Heat radiated off of him, keeping you warm as cool air blew through the open window beside his bed. His chest slowly moved up and down as he let out soft breaths and the occasional snore. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing softly into your skin. You couldn't help but feel so safe and peaceful as he held onto you, even as he slept, as if you could just slip away at any moment.
But unfortunately, your peaceful sleep was interrupted by the dry scratchy feeling in your throat as you breathed in. You took your cheek off of Stiles's chest and glanced over your shoulder at his nightstand. The glass of water you normally kept there for situations such as the one you found yourself in currently, was empty.
You let out a small frustrated sigh as you buried your head into Stiles's chest. You were already dreading having to get up and go to the bathroom sink because it meant that you had to leave the warmth of Stiles and his bed, and you also ran the risk of waking him up in the process.
Quietly and subtly, you slowly snaked out of Stiles's grip and sat on the edge of the bed but before you could get up and make your way to the bathroom, you heard Stiles mumble.
"(Y/N)?" He asked, his voice soft and husky. You bit back a curse as you turned around to see Stiles's eyes fluttering open, sitting up on the bed with his elbows.
He placed his hand on your forearm, his grip gentle as he spoke again, "Where are you going?"
"Just to get a glass of water," You said, immediate guilt for waking him up settling deep in your stomach. He looked so peaceful while he slept, you hated to have interrupted it. "I'm sorry for wakin' you up, baby," You say softly, leaning in and cupping his cheek with one of your hands, kissing his forehead as you do so.
"It's okay," Stiles replied with a soft smile, as you pulled away, your eyes meeting his for a moment. Even half-asleep, he looked at you as if you had walked right out of his dream, like you were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Well to be fair, he looked at you like that and thought of you as that most of the time anyways.
As you got up, you grabbed the cup on his nightstand and brought it to the sink, filling it with water. You brought the cup up to your lips, taking a long sip before finally pulling the cup away, filling it up once more just in case you woke up again.
You walked back to Stiles's room and set the cup down on his nightstand and lied down. This time, Stiles wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You felt his warmth wash over you as he pulled the covers over your shoulders.
You let out a satisfied hum as you wrapped one arm around Stiles's waist, the other resting on his chest as you nuzzled your head into his chest, closing your eyes as you did so.
"No more getting up alright?" Stiles stated almost asleep already, his voice muffled against your hair as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He inhaled, getting a whiff of your shampoo, a light floral smell that he had grown to adore ever since you both started dating.
"No more getting up, pinky swear," You mumble, slowly drifting off to sleep as well now that you are safely wrapped in Stiles's arms.
"Good," Stiles mumbled, pressing small kisses onto your neck as he stroked your hair.
Right as you were about to fall asleep once more, Stiles whispered, "Is it your turn to cook breakfast tomorrow morning?" He asked quietly.
"Mhm," You replied, not bothering to open your eyes as you replied.
"What are you going to make?" He asked again.
"Um, I'm not sure," You say, slightly more awake this time. "How do pancakes sound?" You ask, lifting your head to meet his eyes.
"Pancakes sound great," He replies, a small goofy grin spreading across his face that you couldn't help but return. You lean in, placing your lips on his in a gentle and passionate kiss.
You pull away and rest your head on his chest once more as he brings you a little closer to him this time. You shut your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep but before you can, Stiles speaks again.
"God- pancakes sound so good right now," He whispers, this time, fully awake.
"Stiles, you'll have pancakes in the morning, it's time for bed now," You say softly, placing your hand on his cheek as you look at him once more.
"Yeah you're right," He says, looking at you and placing a kiss on your forehead as you take your hand away from his face. "Goodnight baby,"
"Goodnight Stiles," You reply, and this time, there are no further interruptions, just blissful sleep.
Alright guys, sorry if this was a bit bad, I just thought it was cute and I needed something to feed my delusions (I'm sorry 😭)
let me know if yall would wanna see more of this typa stuff
also ima start working on my requests soon I promise
His signature blue jeep pulled into your driveway at exactly eight. Surprisingly the brunette was on time for once. As soon as he parks he’s jumping out of the jeep, giving you his dorky smile before opening the passenger side door for you. You just chuckle at his actions.
You and Stiles have been friends for years though it was only lately that he's been acting somewhat differently. He’s been sweeter to you, more thoughtful, you contribute it to the fact the two of you have been spending more alone time together. Tonight the two of you are going to see a new horror movie that you’ve been dying to see.
You and Stiles just buttered your popcorn when you bump into Scott and allison. Coincidentally they are going to see the same movie, so you decided to join each other. ‘A double date’ in Stiles' own words. The night went amazing, after the movie the four of you decided to get food. At the end of the night Stiles drives you back to your house. Even going as far as walking you to the door. Just as you're about to say goodnight he kisses you. You freeze when his lips meet yours, completely stunned by the boy's bold move.
“Uh.. What was that?” You weren't against Stiles kissing you but you wanted to know why he's kissing you out of the blue.
Stiles tilted his head a blush still coating his cheeks, “It’s a goodnight kiss, can’t I kiss my girlfriend” Now you're really confused.
“I’m your girlfriend?”
“Of course you're my girlfriend”, he chuckled thinking you were teasing him. It's only when you ask since when with a completely straight face does he realize you're being serious. “A week in a half, I asked you out two tuesdays ago.”
It took a few seconds to place the day.
It was an average day, Stiles was driving you home like he does everyday. Only this time when you pulled up to your house he stops you. “Hey before you go I wanted to ask you something” He was oddly nervous but you didn't think anything about it, giving him a nod of encouragement. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang-out, like just the two of us.” Why he’s so nervous to ask you to hang out you don’t know but you answer right away.
“Of course, I don’t know why you were so nervous to ask. I could never say no to you.” A huge smile blooms on Stiles face, his dimples fully on show.
“Thank goodness, I was so nervous that you would say no” you laugh at his reaction, why on earth would you ever say no.
Now looking back on it’s so obvious that he was asking you on a date. In your defense he never used the word date or the word girlfriend. So it wasn’t totally your fault for not connecting the dots.
“I didn’t realize you were asking me out” your voice is soft
“Oh” an awkward silence covers the two of you as both stare at each other. He had no idea how to respond, this whole time he thought you were his girlfriend, but you thought the two of you were only friends. He had no idea how you thought the two of you were friends. He wasn't hiding his affection for you. The two of you would hold hands, and cuddle yet you thought you were friends. He felt like an idiot, he just kissed you when you saw him as just a friend. “Well then goodnight I guess sorry I kissed you let's just forget about it” he tried to laugh off his discomfort, this is not how he thought tonight was going to go. This morning he was dating his longtime crush and now he’s finding out it was all a lie. He just wanted to run away and die of embarrassment.
Before he could leave you grab his arm pulling him back to you and placing a kiss on his lips. His mind short-circuited, he’s on a rollercoaster. One second he's dating you then you're rejecting him and now you're kissing him.
“Stiles, do you want to be my Boyfriend?”
“Yeah I would love too” his smiles huge
“That's how you ask someone out” you giggle out
“Well when someone takes you on dates and holds your hands that means your dating” the both of you laugh kissing each other once more.
the soft hum of stiles’ mellow r&b playlist fills the warm air inside his jeep. you’ve been sitting in his passenger seat silently for at least twenty minutes by now, watching him drive to nowhere in particular. admiring the muscles that flex in his hands as he maneuvers the steering wheel and the hardness of his gaze on the road that seems to soften whenever he steals a look over at you. your eyes travel from his hands to his arms and you reach out a hand to grip his strong bicep. after ogling him for an almost uncomfortable amount of time, you let your hands travel downwards, palming him through his jeans.
“is your dad home tonight?” you ask, trying for innocence but failing miserably. stiles’ body goes stiff, all except the place you really want him to be.
“uh, no, he’s not,” he mutters tersely.
“fantastic,” you coo, running another hand down his thigh. stiles takes a deep breath that comes out more like a sigh.
“y/n…” he starts, pulling a hand off the steering wheel to push yours off his groin, “i don’t want to do that tonight,” he murmurs quieter, wincing.
“oh, ok,” you respond, slightly shocked but mostly unfazed. trying to figure out stilinski’s motives is usually pointless so you’ve honestly given up on trying. stiles opens his mouth to give you an out just as you open yours to suggest an alternative.
“i can drop you off home, if you want,”
“we could watch a movie instead?”
both of your sentences come out at the exact same time, garbling the words in each of them and requiring both of you to pause to let the other’s message sink in.
“do you want to drop me home? it is pretty late,” you reason honestly.
“uh, i mean, no,” stiles flounders, “i just-uh, i just thought you’d want to. you know, if we weren’t gonna…” his voice trails off and he swallows thickly.
“no, i’m good if you’re good,” you reassure simply and stiles looks over at you with that same slightly soft look in his eyes, “we could pick up a pizza or something, i’m honestly kind of hungry, are you?”
“you’re fine hanging out even if we don’t hook up?” stiles clarifies in awe, keeping his eyes off the road and on yours for an almost dangerous amount of time.
“yeah, totally,” you respond simply and stiles can’t help but crack a gentle smile. he removes his left hand from the steering wheel and laces his fingers in yours. you enjoy the small affection in the gesture but it’s not enough to override your confusion.
“you’re so weird, stiles,” you muse out loud.
“how?” he asks, no trace of defensiveness in his tone.
“i mean, all i do is show you basic human decency and you just kinda…” you pause, searching for the right word as you stare ahead at the unmoving spot of light on the rapidly moving pavement, “...melt”
“maybe i don’t get a lot of basic human decency,” he suggests softly, his cheeks going red.
“that’s fucked, dude,” you chortle.
“yeah, no shit,” he mutters, his eyes carrying another far-off look in them.
excerpt from my fic "stilinski's reputation" on ao3. originally posted on my old blog (strawberryglock) around April '25
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Sorry to ruin everyone's day, but Stiles holds hands when he cries, without a doubt.
Maybe he holds his love's soft palm against his own cheek while he speaks with a tremble, using it as a tether to help him work through his emotions. Their hands are practically soaked from all of his tears, but he doesn't even notice. He's only focused on her and all the love he feels radiating from her touch.
Or maybe she's sitting with him while he waits for his appointment with his therapist after a long, hard day. He squeezes her hand, trying to take deep breaths and ignore how much his leg is shaking. He wipes his face of the tears that escape with a bit of annoyance at his vulnerability in a public space. Sure, there's only a few other people in there with them, and they're all there for the same reason - to get help - but Stiles has always been good at bottling his emotions up. Why couldn't he do it now?
And especially during his panic attacks, when every muscle in his body feels like it's on fire and when his lungs can't grasp the air he's reaching for, he uses both of his hands to hold onto hers, so tightly that they shake. Sometimes he presses their hold against his chest or his forehead, needing to know that it's real, she's real, she's there with him.
Also, just imagine little Scott holding little Stiles' hand as they walk home from their elementary school after getting into another fight with the biggest bully in the second grade. Maybe boys aren't "supposed to" hold hands, like everyone says when they're eight years old and clueless. Stiles doesn't care, though, he knows he needs this (yes, he waited until they were in his neighborhood, away from any curious gazes).
The moral of the story is that sweet, sweet Stiles needs physical touch to survive. Everything becomes easier when he has a hand to hold, and this goes far beyond just crying.
sharing a stiles thought i keep thinking bc brainrot and sharing bc you’d appreciate it
he would beg you to do the spiderman kiss and immediately fall as soon as it actually happens
i know this wasn't technically a request of any sort but oh boy did it tickle at the nearly nonexistent inspiration in my brain, so.. here we are. just a very short fluffy little thing that made me feel all warm inside. x
You tug at the sleeves of your sweatshirt in an attempt to cover your cold knuckles as you take an overly-cautious step out onto your front porch, hugging one arm around your ribs as a shiver wracks your body all while your grip tightens around your cell phone.
“Stiles, if this is one of your jokes-” A sigh escapes you, a wispy cloud of fog pushing past your lips as you look around for your boyfriend. There's a familiar blue jeep parked at the edge of your driveway, but the owner doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. You tut softly into the phone, “I think your pranks are cute, baby. Really, I do, but I need to study-”
Your socked feet carry you that much farther outside, shuffling slow across the smooth planks of wood underfoot while you cautiously scour the yard for his familiar figure.
“I'm right-” There's a scratchy crackle against the speaker just as you hear a scuffle from somewhere to your left. Stiles' yelp meets your ears twice, once from the dark emptiness at the edge of the porch, and then again half a second later through the phone.
It's just as you're just stepping up to the edge of the porch, hand falling to grip the railing as you squint into the darkness, when something drops down from above and makes you flinch back with a small scream.
“Here!” Stiles grins, the momentum of his body still making him sway forward and backward for a moment as he hangs upside down in front of you. He's dangling from the roof overhanging the porch, his torso curled around the edge in a way that can't possibly be comfortable, but he's grinning like he couldn't be more pleased with his current position.
“Stiles!” You scold, reining in the urge to punch his shoulder and instead redirecting the motion to simply grip at his biceps when he reaches out for you. The slow motion of his swinging slows under your steady hold, “Are you insane? You're banned from climbing on the roof! We- We have talked about this-”
“Neh, eh, eh,” He interrupts with a goofy grin, “The rule was that I can't climb on Scott's roof-”
While you don't remember the specifics, you have no doubt that your boyfriend would have been clever enough to worm some sort of loophole into his previous promise. Your nose scrunches up in annoyance while your heart continues thumping wildly in your chest, both from the scare and from the panic pooling in your gut as you watch your boyfriend shuffle and slip another inch or so over the edge of the roof.
“Sti, babe, please,” You whine anxiously, fingers digging into his arms a little meanly, “Stop moving around, alright? You're going to fall!”
“I'm not gonna fall,” Stiles rolls his eyes and he reaches a hand out to brush against your cheek, his pinky brushing the apple your cheek as his thumb presses lightly into your jaw, “Come on, don't you wanna know why I'm up here?”
You sigh softly, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips while you release him with just one hand so that you can run your fingers through his floppy hair where it hangs loosely beneath his head. Your hand scrapes lightly though the soft strands, your cheek pushing imperceptibly into the warmth of his palm.
“Why are you on the roof, Sti?” You ask begrudgingly.
“Spiderman.”
“Spiderman?” You repeat slowly.
“Spiderman!” Stiles grins, “You know, the first one. The Raimi one-”
“Like.. Andrew Garfield?” You clarify with furrowed brows.
“What?” Stiles scoffs, “No! Toby Maguire! Baby, we watched them together-”
He looks appalled, mouth gaping just slightly in incredulity.
“Well, we watched the Andrew Garfield ones together too-” You defend with a small laugh, amusement filling your chest at just how worked up he seems to be getting by your mistake.
“The first one!” Stiles repeats in a huff, “Because that's the one where it's raining and he saves MJ and he's hanging upside-down in the alley and she pulls his mask down to kiss him as a thank you-”
“Ooh, a wet, New York City alleyway,” You tease, “How romantic.”
Stiles groans woefully, “This was supposed to be romantic. You are totally ruining this for me, right now, you know-”
His words do make you feel a little bad. He'd clearly put some thought into the idea. He'd climbed all the way up onto the roof of your porch, though you're still not quite sure how — there's no ladder in sight.
You plaster a sweet smile on your lips, slipping your feet up onto the rung at the bottom of the railing to boost you up another few inches, until your nose is level with Stiles' chin.
“I'm sorry, Stiles,” You murmur softly, chin tipping toward your chest so you can look into his eyes, “You wanted a big, superhero movie kiss?”
His adam's apple bobs when he swallows, his body reacting naturally to the familiar teasing lilt in your voice, “Uh huh.” He nods.
“Well gee,” You sigh wistfully as you drag a finger up the side of his cheek in a slow trail toward his mole-speckled neck, “You are awfully brave for climbing up there. And you did do it with the intention of wooing me..” Your teeth pull lightly at your lower lip and his eyes track the movement, “Maybe I could show you just how brave and sweet I think you are. Maybe.. I could show you how grateful I am, that you were willing to risk getting hurt for me.”
Stiles is nodding along, eyes wide with anticipation and cheeks flushed dark from a combination of your words and the blood rushing to his head in his current position, “Yeah.” He rasps weakly.
Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, your lips catching against his in just a light brush of skin, teasing. His lips part beneath your own and your warm breath mingles in the narrow space, the scent of spearmint overtaking your senses for a moment.
The hand on your cheek drags you closer in a gentle nudge as he grows impatient, and your mouths meet in a slightly awkward press of lips. Something about the new angle with such a familiar action scratches at the back of your brain, and you tilt your head just slightly when your mouths separate and rejoin only a second later.
Stiles presses his thumb softly into the hinge of your jaw in a silent request for you to open your mouth, his tongue catching on your lower lip before pressing inside and meeting your own.
Your tangle your fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Another wet peck to his lips has him shuffling forward to chase your mouth the moment you ease back, and he seems to slip just a little further over the edge of the roof.
“Careful.” You warn softly.
“'m always careful.” Stiles whispers, his upturned nose pushing into your jaw as he kisses you again.
You lean back after allowing him another moment of indulgence. Stiles seems to follow the movement again, pitching forward as you go back like you're two magnets, but this time around he slips just a bit too far to allow for recovery. You can only watch on with wide eyes while he comes tumbling down from the roof and crashes into the bushes below with a small scream.
“Oh my god!” You gasp, leaning over the railing to watch your boyfriend roll into the grass with a groan, “Are you okay?”
“You sure about that, Spiderman?” You tease hopefully as you watch him drag himself to his feet, brushing himself off to free the small bits of branches and leaves and dirt that are now clinging to his clothes.
“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, “Yeah, 'm good.”
“Good,” You grin, beckoning him closer when he finishes ridding himself of yard debris and meets your eye, “You should get yourself a mask though. I hear masked superheroes tend get more than just kisses and I have to admit, I think it's kinda hot-”
“Noted,” Stiles agrees with wide eyes, tripping over his own feet and the porch stairs as he rushes toward you, “Fucking- Shit, I am so on it.”
It had only been a week and a half since you and Stiles had started dating, but it felt both brand new and incredibly familiar, like you’d been circling each other for much longer. The thrill of finally being together was still fresh, but there was also that comfortable ease that came from years of friendship. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you pulled a tray of cookies from the oven, the smell of chocolate chip filling the kitchen.
You’d baked them as a surprise for Stiles, knowing how much he loved them. His sweet tooth was no secret, especially when he’d confessed it during one of those late-night conversations when it was just the two of you, sitting on the steps of your house. Stiles had been rambling about some bizarre case with Scott, and then out of nowhere, he'd gone off on a tangent about cookies. You’d laughed at the time, but tonight, you thought it’d be a nice gesture.
He arrived just as you were setting them down to cool, his Jeep rumbling to a stop outside. You could hear the faint sound of him locking it before his footsteps made their way to your front door. You opened it before he could knock, a habit you’d developed. Stiles stood there, his usual awkward smile on his face, hair even messier than normal—probably from some other crazy supernatural situation he hadn’t even told you about yet.
"Hey," he said, eyes lighting up the moment they caught sight of you. His shoulders visibly relaxed, and you could tell that being with you, even after a chaotic day, was becoming his safe haven.
"Hey yourself," you smiled back, stepping aside so he could come in. As soon as he entered, his eyes immediately darted to the kitchen, catching the scent of freshly baked cookies.
"Are those...?" His expression was priceless—wide-eyed, like he’d just stumbled upon a treasure.
You chuckled, "Yep. Thought you’d like a little treat after today."
"Okay, you’re officially the best boyfriend ever," Stiles declared, making a beeline for the kitchen like he hadn’t eaten in days. "No, seriously. You didn’t have to—wait, yes you did, because these smell *amazing*."
You followed him, laughing at his enthusiasm as he leaned over the tray, inhaling deeply. “I figured you needed something nice after whatever supernatural craziness happened today.”
He turned to you, still grinning. “Do you know me or what? But yeah, it was… intense. Scott almost got his head ripped off, Malia turned into full-on were-coyote mode, and Lydia’s banshee scream? Nearly deafened me again. But all in a day’s work, right?” He smirked, but you could see the exhaustion behind his eyes.
“You’re always saving the world,” you teased lightly, stepping closer to him. “But now you can relax for a bit.”
Stiles’ grin softened as he met your gaze. “I like that idea.” He reached out, fingers brushing yours before taking your hand in his. “You’re like my calm in the storm, you know that?”
Your heart swelled at his words, and for a second, the world outside really did feel distant. It was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet comfort of your kitchen, the faint smell of rain still lingering outside.
“C’mon,” you said, tugging him toward the couch. “Cookies can wait until they cool.”
Stiles followed, still holding your hand, and as you sat down, the weight of the day seemed to fall away from him. You both settled in, his arm resting over your shoulders, pulling you closer. His body was warm against yours, the faint scent of his cologne—something woodsy and familiar—mingling with the ever-present hint of mint from his gum. It was a comfort, something uniquely Stiles.
You were quiet for a moment, and then Stiles broke it, his voice softer now. “You know, it’s weird. We’ve been dating for what, like a week and a half? But I feel like...”
“Like it’s been longer?” you finished for him.
“Exactly.” He squeezed your hand. “I guess that’s the benefit of knowing each other so well, huh?”
“Yeah, makes things a lot easier,” you said, smiling. “But it’s still new, and I kinda like that. Figuring all this out.”
He leaned his head against your shoulder, and for a moment, everything was perfect. His heart beat steady, his breathing calm—until, in true Stiles fashion, he couldn’t resist. “So, uh… how does this work?” he asked, gesturing between the two of you, his expression mock-serious. “Is this where we do the whole ‘first cuddle as a couple’ thing? I just don’t want to mess up the *routine* or anything. There’s like, a protocol, right?”
You laughed, leaning into him. “Pretty sure you’re doing fine so far.”
“Good to know,” he said, voice dipping into that soft, vulnerable tone he only used when it was just the two of you. He paused for a second, then turned his head slightly, his lips brushing your cheek. It was a tentative, sweet gesture, but it made your pulse race all the same. He pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, but you smiled, giving him the go-ahead without words.
Stiles leaned in again, this time pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. The kiss was slow, gentle—like he was savoring the moment, taking his time to explore the feeling of being this close to you. His lips were soft, and you could still taste the faint mint on his breath.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, a little breathless. Stiles’ face was flushed, but the happiness in his eyes was undeniable.
“I think I like this ‘routine,’” he said, grinning.
“Yeah?” you teased, still close enough to feel his breath against your skin.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling you closer again, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline. “We should definitely make this a regular thing.”
You chuckled, settling back into the couch as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. The rain outside had picked up again, tapping softly against the windows, but inside, the world felt warm and safe. Stiles, ever the fidgeter, started tracing lazy patterns on your hand, his other arm snug around your waist.
“This is nice,” he murmured after a while, his voice starting to grow a little drowsy.
You nodded, feeling the same contentment wash over you. “Yeah, it is.”
For a few more moments, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet comfort of being together. Then, out of nowhere, Stiles perked up. “Wait, the cookies! Did I miss the cooling window?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “No, they’re still good. You want to grab some now?”
“Hell yes,” he said, jumping up with renewed energy. He dashed to the kitchen and returned, holding a plate of warm cookies in triumph. “I’ve survived another day in Beacon Hills, and I deserve this,” he declared, handing you one before taking a huge bite out of his own. His eyes closed in bliss. “Oh my God, these are perfect.”
You grinned, taking a bite yourself. “Only the best for the hero of Beacon Hills.”
Stiles beamed at you, chocolate smudging the corner of his mouth. “Okay, stop. You’re gonna make me blush.”
“You’re already blushing,” you teased, leaning in to kiss the chocolate from his lips. And just like that, you found yourselves kissing again, sweet and soft, the taste of cookies mixing with the warmth of the moment.
In that instant, the world outside faded away. No werewolves, no banshees, no looming threats. Just you and Stiles, in the calm of a stormy Beacon Hills night, knowing that whatever craziness came next, you had each other.
