This Came To Me In A Vision At 4am And Then I Went To The Er A Couple Hours Later So Here:

stiles and his best friend who is in love with him and he can’t see it.

it’s no secret stiles stilinski is a nerd. he’s awkward sometimes and he’s never had that many friends— not that he really needed more than scott and you. he says his thoughts without thinking and his sarcastic nature gets him in trouble more often than not. and he’s never been good at talking to girls. girls he likes, that is. he’s been in love with lydia martin almost as long as you’ve been in love with him. except you can count on one hand the number of times he’s spoken to the redhead without making a complete fool of himself. and if you weren’t wishing it was you that made him trip over his words, you’d find it funny. but you do wish it was you, and you don’t find it funny that all she does is blow him off.

it’s not as if your affection for stiles is a secret. he’s one of your best friends, of course you hug him and run your fingers over his buzzed hair and fix his shirt collar and help him with homework and joke about his jeep and do all of the things best friends do. but there’s a yearning in all of those actions, a desire to mean more to him than what you are that consumes you. the lingering glances and the just-too-long touches are obvious to everyone else but stiles. he doesn’t recognize that the way you act around him is the same way he acts around lydia. how could he? he’s never been the one girls want ( as far as he knows ).

scott tries to help. he really does. he sees how much you care for his best friend, can sense just how far gone you truly are. but it doesn’t work. after all, if scott can be with allison, why can’t stiles be with lydia? it could work. those words were said verbatim and it crushed you. why can’t he see that someone already loves him? that the way he is now is the way you want him, always and forever. that he doesn’t have to be popular or first line or supernatural or anything other than who he is at his core.

and when someone mistakes you for dating one another, he laughs. he laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and says, “she’s my best friend.” and the finality in his tone snaps your heart in two but you smile and nod along as if it’s ridiculous that you and stiles would ever date. as if it’s not the one thing you want more than anything, as if it’s not the wish you make every time you blew out a birthday candle, as if it’s not the subject of your happiest dreams. stiles doesn’t see you that way. he never will.

stiles and his best friend who can’t take the pain of being in love with him.

stiles and sandman!reader blurb

a/n: this was inspired by the song “at all costs” from wish and i was going to do a full length fic but i can’t quite get it right so right now here’s a blurb! testing the waters to see if it’s smth y’all would want <3

you weren’t supposed to dream.

in all of your years, you had never dreamt. no terrifying nightmares, no reliving moments of your past, no outlandish fantasies that fleeted from your brain the second you woke. not even when you were little. it had never been unusual to you, knowing that your family were dream guardians— or more commonly known in lore, sandmen.

you weren’t sure when it had started, when the images of a boy with dark hair and equally dark eyes had started to come to you. but the longer it went on the more you grew attached, to look forward to sleep and to seeing the serene face in your dreams. there was no name, no identifying factor other than his soft features that brought you comfort rather than disturbance.

you kept it a secret. not because it was particularly dangerous or untoward ( as far as you knew ), but rather because it felt good to have something uniquely your own. and maybe because you were afraid if you told the other members of your family, the dreams would stop. and selfishly, you couldn’t let him go.

stiles had never kept track of his dreams. most of the time they were weird and nonsensical and filled with allusions to his favorite nerdy media. and they never repeated. sure, some of them had the same premise or started the same way but there was always something different about them, something that made each one different. that was, until a few months ago when he had begun to dream of a mysterious girl. the first time he figured it was a product of his imagination, a fantasy he had created to combat his lack of a relationship. but then he dreamt of her again.

and again. and again. and again.

always the same over and over. the girl frozen in time, her eyes gentle and her smile kind. she never spoke but it seemed like she wanted to. of course, he had to be going crazy. how could a figure in a dream want anything? wanting was so completely and utterly human, something he knew very well after dreaming of her for months. he wanted to know her so much it bled into his waking hours, leaving him desperate for the time he’d close his eyes and see her again.

he didn’t tell anyone. with all of the nonsense he and his friends went through, this small pocket of peace that he found in his sleep was something he wanted to keep to himself ( and maybe he was afraid they’d make fun of him for making up a literal “dream girl” ).

for months they dreamt of each other. always watching, memorizing until they could recall the features of the other as well as they could their own. neither of them understood the true depth of their connection, nor that it was real and more tangible than any dream had a right to be.

after all, the saying is “dreams do come true”.

i can't // mitch rapp x reader

the day was long enough as it was; your body lethargic, dirt staining your skin as it burrowed toward your nail beds, forehead slightly pink from the blood that you wiped away. you stared at the remnants on the back of your hand as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor.

time was moving slowly, caused by the exhaustion from the mission you had just completed. barely completed. alone, but with enough luck to get you by. the beckon to report your conclusion in person was a weight that made your shoulders drag. your head hanging with as much disappointment. you cursed, aloud, and to yourself, but still found your empty body waiting in the lobby of the CIA's empire.

leaning against the frame, you listened as the elevator sung, the contraption opening at a decreased pace, predetermined energy conserved to just get you past the doors -

you saw gold. you always did whenever you looked at him, it was the first feature that entrapped you from the very beginning. they were hidden behind hooded eyes but you were still magnetised. he looked just as tired as you, if not more, the length of his hair long enough to lick at his cheeks as he finally focused on your waiting form.

his gaze grew slightly. it was as if realisation hit, and you only just managed to stop the door from closing as you spent your time staring at one another in silence.

you were alone today because of him. he was alone today because of you. it was never like this - never alone. you and mitch rapp shared every second of your lives at one point, and it was glorious to revel in a partnership that stretched beyond the field. but you didn't just have each other's backs, you had each other's hearts.

muscles that not only pumped blood, but held passion and endearment. that kept promises and oaths. hearts that were given to another for safe keeping - but they ended up shattered, like everything in this cruel world that kept you employed.

you took a step forward and spun away from him, your nose inches from the closing door. he remained at the back. it is a shame that your job left you both bitter and stubborn - emotional regulation gone out the window, patience slipping through fingers that hardly had the energy to grasp anymore. you both would argue from the moment the sun exchanged roles with the incandescence of night, to when the birds sung their morning lullabies.

it provoked two souls to tear apart. but the giddying warmth, the contentedness that often hid behind closed doors, the love that pulled you two together once upon a time still lingered. and it fucking hurt.

"i miss you."

your voice was hardly recognised by your own ears, but mitch heard perfectly. it was a thought that swam in your mind daily and the courage to let it slip past trembling lips was only found when all defences were down. a bitter-sweet opportunity forced by your fatigued demeanour. your tone was quiet but it still shook. nearly as much as the contraption you were standing within.

it made mitch gulp. the innocence of your tone thumped strongly in his chest, the confession making his fingertips twitch with need. he stared at the back of your head before you were getting closer, his feet absentmindedly pulling him toward you.

the next sound he heard was your breath hitching. his own hitting your neck as he stood behind your form, hands desperate to grab onto your waist. but he forced himself back before the roughness of your denim jeans could graze his callused skin.

florals. even after the day you had, he could still smell the floral scent of your shampoo. or maybe it was just burnt so thoroughly in the back of his mind that he was imagining it. just like this moment. he dreamt of it so much.

he also dreamt of the moment he would hear the angelicness of your voice again.

and the way you would touch him.

how he would touch you.

but this world is indeed cruel. and this man has loved and lost before. twice, now.

he wanted to reassure you, but found it difficult to push sentiments from the weight of his tongue. he could end it right here, right now. but he won't. he can't hurt again, and he would only hurt you more in the end.

mitch drew a deep breath and you felt it once again as it tickled loose hairs on your neck.

"i can't."

strained syllables escaped him as his pained tone cracked through the empty elevator space. it echoed, digging deeper in your hearts the more the sound reverberated. he squeezed his eyes closed, the honey shade disappearing.

the movement around you both stopped, the door opening to your destination.

you drew a deep breath now, finalising the anguish that pushed and pulled in your chest.

"i know."

when people like/reblog my posts i feel so validated

i mean four is more or whatever they say 😉

you ever see a fun interaction between two people who are mutuals and think damn i wish i could be their third

lazy cuddles with stiles sound sooooo good rn

like maybe you’ve had a long day or maybe you took a day off just to be together. but you’re both in bed with light filtering through the windows as you talk about everything and nothing.

his arms around you and his head on your chest, your hands running through his hair as you hum softly. maybe it’s the tune of a song you like or maybe it’s random notes in a non-sequential order but nonetheless it’s a soothing sound.

you focus on his breathing at certain times, just to make sure he’s still there. reveling in the fact that he’s real and this is a moment you want to remember forever. it’s pure domesticity and bliss and you wish that it was always like this.

maybe he asks you questions or maybe he’s telling stupid jokes to make you smile because that’s his favorite sight in the world. maybe his hands move to tickle you because your laughter brings him unfettered joy. and when he settles, he just looks at you like you’re his entire world. because you are.

soft, sweet kisses at sporadic moments just because he loves you so much and the urge overtakes him.

just. ugh i need stiles comfort rn.

stiles misses you

a/n: i have no excuse for this except i’m on my period and i love crying. this can be interpreted as the reader is dead or they broke up, whichever makes you cry more. xoxo 🫶🏻

stiles misses you.

he misses the sweet scent of your perfume when he walks past you and the lingering daze he’d be in from looking at you. he misses the saccharine smiles you’d give him and the playful ones you’d respond with when he winked at you in class. he misses the color of your hair and the way it shone in the sun like a beacon signaling home. he misses the sparkle in your eyes when you finally figure out something that’s been bugging you.

he misses the sound of your laughter, bright as bells and unapologetic, echoing through the halls and in his brain and how it was so much more intoxicating when he was the one who made you laugh. he misses your kind words, the gentleness in your tone and the way you can make anything sound sweet. he misses how you’d comfort him when he cried and whenever he had a bad day, rubbing soothing circles into his back and quiet murmurs of reassurance.

he misses the familiar sound of your voice, the way he hears it first out of every sound that goes through his adhd-riddled brain. he misses hearing your voice and knowing everything would be okay because you’re here and you’re safe and you’re all that matters to him.

he even misses the way that you fight. riding in silence in his jeep until you can’t take it anymore and yelling until you can’t breathe until you finally give in to one another and have it out the way you need to. whether it’s harsh or disappointing or all-consuming heartache, he misses all of the feelings you give him.

he misses your heartbeat. the steady sound of it pounding in his ears as his head lays across your chest and your fingers thread through his hair as you hum softly to him. he misses the constant calmness that comes with you being around when he’s alone, mind racing with anything and everything that won’t let him sleep at night.

he misses your clothes, the ones you’d leave around his house after sleepovers or just in case you ever needed an outfit replacement after some supernatural horror ruined yours. he misses the way they smell like you because the ones he has are beginning to fade and he’s afraid he’ll forget what that smell is. the smell of home.

he misses driving around beacon hills with you in the middle of the night when you’re stuck doing werewolf patrol, the silly games you’d play and the way you’d make up some outlandish rules to twist the odds in your favor.

he misses the way he always had someone on his side, how you would always believe him no matter what anyone said or did. you always held firm in your belief that stiles was right. he misses having someone to stick up for him about his ideas and having someone in his corner, rain or shine, right or wrong. he misses the feeling of togetherness, of being half of a whole.

stiles misses your stupid texts, the ones you’d send him while bored in class, not caring if you got caught and had your phone taken away. he misses the heart emoji you’d always put at the end of every one as a reminder that you loved him. he misses the texts in the middle of the night about questions neither of you can answer, whether philosophical or entirely improbable. he misses the way you’d text him good morning and how you’d always text him to make sure he got home okay.

he misses the hours-long phone calls talking about everything that was going on in your world, supernatural or not, good or bad. he misses being able to say whatever he wants to say without fear of judgement or apprehension. he misses the stretches of silence that come after you fall asleep on the phone together, your voice slurring as you fight sleep but you don’t want to hang up because you just want him. he misses knowing that you’re on the other end of the line, always waiting for him.

he misses you so bad that it chokes him, hot tears on his pillow as he looks at the picture of you two that he keeps on his nightstand. he misses you so bad he can’t breathe through the pained sobs that plague him every night, holding onto the pillow you used to use when you slept over, trying to cling to the memories that are starting to fade.

stiles misses you.

hi!! part two of the jealous stiles thing. please.

ohohoho *rubs my evil little hands together* i am SO glad you asked

stiles is tired. he was distracted the whole time at practice and he still can’t seem get the image of that guy flirting with you out of his head. it’s this thought that causes him not to notice you as you’re standing on the side of the lacrosse field, fiddling with your hands, until he practically runs into you.

“oh, hey.” his greeting is casual and his tone questioning, not like the usual playful smile and exuberant tone you’re so used to receiving but you decide it’s just because he’s not used to you being at school so late.

“hey. so my car totally died on me and my parents are stuck at work. can you give me a ride home?” your tone is sheepish, hesitant to ask since he’s been so unlike the usual stiles you know all day. but everyone else was already gone and you had no other choice.

how could he deny you?

“yeah. yeah, i’ll give you a ride home.”

your shoulders sag in relief as you both head to the familiar blue jeep in the parking lot. you’re both quiet as you walk but you’re almost certain you see him open his mouth and close it again several times, almost as if he wants to say something but then decides against it.

“so, the new guy thinks he wants to try out for lacrosse.”

it’s your attempt at starting a conversation but the comment has the opposite of your desired effect. you can hear his quiet scoff as he throws his lacrosse gear in the back and you turn your head as you climb in the passenger seat, catching his eyes that are full of an emotion you think is anger. or maybe annoyance. whatever it was, you knew it was unhappy.

“okay, seriously stiles? what is going on with you? you’ve been a total jerk all day and you’re barely speaking to me. did i do something?”

his gaze softens and you could swear that there’s remorse in the lines of his eyes as he looks at you. and he hates himself for making you think that he’s upset at you. for holding you at arms’ length when you had nothing to do with the new guy hitting on you. his ire could never be directed at you, especially not for this.

“no. ‘course not. just think it’s a little strange that this guy is here all of two seconds and already aiming for a date with the first girl he sees.”

your brows raise and he catches it, his face morphing into that embarrassed look you know so well as he sputters his next words.

“not- not that i mean he shouldn’t ask you out. i mean, if it were me and i had you offering to show me around, i’d ask you out too.”

“okay.” you purse your lips slightly, still not fully understanding what his problem is.

“i don’t say yes to dates with guys i just met, by the way,” are your next words as you look over at him. “i like to get to know someone first.”

his hair is still damp with sweat, one hand on the wheel of his jeep and the other resting on his leg as he sighs. you’ve never seen anyone be more attractive, never been more attracted to stiles as you are in this moment. he looks like a god, one you’d happily worship if he let you. ( on your knees. )

it takes a moment for your brain to fully process what his earlier statement implied, realization setting in your bones.

“wait. are you saying you’d ask me out?”

“depends on if you’d say yes. but you just said you don’t go on dates with guys you just met.”

“it’s a good thing i didn’t just meet you, then.”

the only sound is the way his breath hitches and his gaze becomes something you can only describe as predatory. like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole. and that makes something in you snap.

you don’t say a word as you place your lips on his.

he wastes no time reciprocating, his hands finding your body and he tugs you, gently, from the passenger seat and into his lap. your hands thread through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck. the way he kisses you is possessive, hungry, his hands holding your hips hard enough to bruise and you wish you’d known that all it would take for stiles to kiss you was someone else flirting with you.

you pull away breathless, his gaze causing shivers to run down your spine and set your body on fire.

“maybe i should make you jealous more often if it means you’ll kiss me like that again.”

“i’ll kiss you like that whenever you want.”

the confession makes your heart melt. and you can tell he means it, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the center of his world. you recognize it because it’s the way you’ve always looked at him and the way he used to look at lydia. you just never thought you’d see it towards you.

“i’m holding you to that.”

more stiles fluff pls bc hes so lover boy

thank you SO much for asking i love stiles so much he IS lover boy i need him desperately

also sorry this is so short i’m still trying to kick whatever sickness i have </3

he’s so stupid in love it’s sickening ( or maybe that’s me but )

constantly talking about you and/or wanting other people to bring you up so he can talk about you more

he’s so big on PDA, it really doesn’t matter what form. he’s just so in love with you and he doesn’t care who knows it.

lingering hugs and forehead kisses and ruffling your hair and staring at you fondly while someone else is talking to him

“stiles are you even listening to me” and the answer is always no. not when you’re around. his thoughts are always preoccupied by you.

if you’re not too big on PDA though, he’ll try to tone it down and settle for holding your hand or playing with your fingers while you’re standing next to each other. he’s fidgety and he likes touching you, he can’t help it.

i feel like if you’re watching a movie together, you’re in his arms. you claim it’s because he’s a nice pillow ( and he is ) but really, it’s the feeling of being safe.

you know as long as you’re with him, nothing and no one is touching you.

he always searches for you in crowded rooms. you’re the first thing he looks for, the first person his eyes settle on. he doesn’t always have to be with you but he at least has to know you’re around.

i feel like he’s only ever fully vulnerable when he’s alone with you. his whole life is sarcasm and jokes to cover his real feelings but with you, it’s so easy to let it out.

sure, you talk about the deeper things that he doesn’t tell most people but it’s more than that. you make his racing mind quiet. you calm him in a way that he hasn’t had in maybe ever.

in those moments, it’s just you and him laying in bed and he looks so peaceful, so gentle it makes your heart ache. your fingers are running through his hair and his arms are around your waist and his head on your chest and there’s never been a more perfect moment.

i feel like the first time he says i love you is an accident. he’s been overthinking on how to tell you for ages, worried you may not say it back that it just comes out.

and of course you say it back. after that, he says it all the time. you could be sitting in the passenger seat of his jeep and he’s driving and he’s staring at you instead of the road and you ask him why he’s staring

“i just love you, that’s all” and he shrugs like that’s the only possible answer he could give

stiles is the type of boyfriend who sends you random articles about a subject just because you said you liked it once.

he does like seeing you in his clothes so he will always lend them to you. but also, he likes getting them back once they start to smell like you.

he’s also the type to sing you cheesy love songs off key to annoy you ( but you also find it endearing— not that you’ll tell him that )

he drives you to school a lot. he says it’s better than the bus and you’re not even that much out of his way so it’s really no problem ( and it’s 100% an excuse to spend more time with you and make sure you get to school okay. whether you actually get there on time is not relevant. )

he’s always telling you about the crazy shit he overheard from his dad’s phone calls and about school gossip ( because let’s be honest, that boy yaps. he knows shit. )

he shares his snacks with you. ( it’s such a simple thing i know but where i come from, sharing food is a love language )

speaking of food, i feel like you guys have dinner together a lot. if the sheriff has to work late, you’re either inviting stiles over to eat with your family or you and stiles bring food to the sheriff’s office to make sure his dad eats too.

and on the subject of the sheriff, he adores you. he’s not really the type to say it aloud but he can see how happy you make stiles and how much you take care of him. and he does appreciate that you take care of him too. it’s been a while since they’ve had someone else to look out for them both.

stiles will do matching stuff with you. halloween costumes? check. matching pajamas? check. same flannels? check. he may have complained about it at first but once you convinced him he was hooked. he thinks it’s adorable.

would you fall in love with me again? // s.s.

summary: in the aftermath of allison’s death and the nogitsune’s possession, stiles had pulled away until your relationship snapped. until one night when he has nowhere else to go but your doorstep.

a/n: this is not proofread we die like the suitors in the odyssey ( which is coincidentally the musical of which this fic was inspired by )

a/n: i have been trying to write this for days and i still am not fully happy with it but it is what it is ( also i recommend listening to “would you fall in love with me again” from the epic concept musical by jorge rivera-herrans while reading )

word count: 1k+

you knew things wouldn’t be the same. after everything your friends had been through, change was inevitable. allison was gone. and while you knew that the nogitsune had been the cause, you also knew that stiles couldn’t not blame himself. you knew that stiles had gone through something horrible, a terror that you couldn’t imagine. but you had assumed that he would lean on you, turn to you in his hour of need, let you comfort him and tell him that it would all be okay.

he didn’t.

instead, you felt the thread of your relationship grow so thin you weren’t sure it existed anymore. he didn’t seek you out, didn’t tell his usual jokes, didn’t offer you rides home, didn’t do anything that the stiles from before would do. you wondered sometimes if you were a painful reminder of things that had been lost— if he looked at you and saw something that he no longer was allowed to have for the things the monster inside of him had done.

he never officially broke up with you. there was no messy breakup, no screaming match or sobs. he was there one day and then he just. . . wasn’t.

you didn’t hate him for it. you wanted to. god, how you wanted to hate him for ignoring you, for turning you away when he so obviously needed you. but you couldn’t. because you knew that he was still your stiles. he hadn’t changed. he had hidden. you knew that he would come back eventually.

eventually came.

it was late, the last droplets of rain pelting the roof of your house with a slowly dissipating strength. you had dozed off while the storm outside had run its course, but something had roused you. a knock. two. several.

glancing at the clock on the wall, you had no idea who would be visiting at this hour. a gnawing feeling grew in your gut as you stood and walked towards the door. had one of your friends been hurt? was there an emergency to attend to? you threw open the door with a frantic look, panic in your eyes. but it wasn’t bad news.

it was stiles.

his hair was wet from the rain, his eyes rimmed in red and his breathing heavy. he looked awful. his frame was sunken in, almost as if he were trying to diminish his presence. like he somehow bothered you for showing up. like he was afraid you would turn him away.

you weren’t sure what to say. it had been so long since you had been alone with him, so long since he had intentionally sought you out. you wondered just what had happened to make him appear on your doorstep, shaking and afraid and looking as if he was going to collapse.

“stiles. oh my god, stiles, what happened to you?”

your voice was quiet, unsure if you would spook him by speaking too loud. he seemed torn. in more ways than one. you realized he hadn’t moved and you stepped aside from the doorway, your face soft as you beckoned him in. it only took seconds for him to collapse against you, his head buried in the crook of your neck as you felt the sensation of tears against your skin.

you held him. you didn’t know how long the two of you stood there, but you held him all the same. he was trembling, holding on to you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered. you couldn’t stand it.

gently, you pried him away from your body and he looked so broken it made your heart ache.

“what happened?”

he froze at the question, looking back at the door and for a moment you were convinced he was going to bolt. but instead, he sat down on the couch, his head in his hands as he answered.

“i killed him. i killed donovan.”

you sat down gently beside him, removing his hands from his face and cradling them in your own. and while part of you wanted to be shocked, to say he would never do something like that, the other part of you said he would. but only, only, if he’d had no other choice.

“okay.”

he looked at you, his expression puzzled, as if he hadn’t quite understood what you said. and then his expression morphed to bewilderment.

“what do you mean ‘okay’?! i tell you i killed someone and you just accept it?!”

“because i know you had a reason.”

you paused, searching for the right words.

“the stiles i know, the stiles i love, would never kill someone without having a reason. it’s not who you are.”

“what if you don’t know who i am? what if i’m not the same person? what if i don’t know who i am? what if. . . what if scott was right?”

you paled, wondering what exactly scott had said to him. had he gone to scott first, tried to explain, only to be met with judgement and disappointment? had scott spurned him? the thought made you seethe. while scott was your friend, he had known stiles for years. how could he possibly question what stiles had done? how could he not believe that stiles was still at his core who he had always been?

“he was wrong.”

“no, he was right. i’m not the same person. how could you love me? after what i did?”

you were furious. you stood, whirling on him, your voice raised as you countered.

“you’re not?! then go take your jeep apart. scrap it! put that useless heap of junk where it belongs!”

he looked up at you, hurt in his eyes that quickly turned sour.

“how could you say that?! you know what that jeep means to me! you know it was my mother’s, that it’s the last thing i have of hers! how could you tell me to get rid of something like that?!”

“if you had changed, you wouldn’t care about that. the stiles i love always cared for it. so don’t tell me that you’re not the same person. you are. you always have been. i’ve been waiting for you to realize that.”

you had him. you knew you did the moment his gaze softened. his shoulders sagged with relief, letting out a shaking breath as you sat back down next to him.

you would deal with the aftermath later. for now, you had stiles. and that was more than enough.