Multifandom One-shots

44. Whispers in Moonlight - Stiles x reader (Teen Wolf)

The Beacon Hills night was filled with an unusual calm, broken only by the distant howls of werewolves. Stiles Stilinski and I sat on the hood of his Jeep, staring up at the stars.

"You know," Stiles began, "sometimes I envy the simplicity of those stars. No complications, just hanging out there in the sky."

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. Stiles and I had a unique friendship. Our connection went beyond the typical teenage bonds, and it was something unspoken yet understood.

"Hey, Y/N," Stiles said, looking at me with genuine warmth in his eyes. "Why don't you crash at my place tonight? Dad's out of town, and I could use the company."

A surge of gratitude and comfort filled me. Spending the night with Stiles was just what I needed.

I smiled at Stiles, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the genuine care he had for me. "Sure, Stiles. I'd love that."

As we drove through the quiet streets of Beacon Hills, the Jeep's engine hummed a soothing melody. Stiles and I exchanged casual banter, our laughter blending with the night air. Despite the unconventional silence that often enveloped me, Stiles had a way of making me feel seen and understood.

The Jeep pulled up to the Stilinski residence, its headlights cutting through the darkness. We climbed out, and I followed Stiles into the quiet house. The absence of Sheriff Stilinski, his father, created an unusual void in the usually bustling home.

Stiles' room welcomed us with its familiar chaos—a mess of papers, crime board references, and a worn-out detective novel on the nightstand. It was a reflection of Stiles' eccentric personality.

"Make yourself at home, Y/N," Stiles said. "I'll go and get us some to drink and maybe some snacks."

I nodded appreciatively as Stiles left the room, leaving me to take in the eclectic mix of Stiles' belongings. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated the room, casting a warm hue on the cluttered surroundings. I found a comfortable spot on the bed, surrounded by the remnants of Stiles' various obsessions and investigations.

Stiles returned with a tray of snacks and drinks and a mischievous grin on his face. "Snacks and the finest Beacon Hills tap water. A true feast."

I chuckled, appreciating the effort. I patted the spot beside me on the bed, making Stiles almost leap forward as he placed the tray on the side.

"Bon appétit," Stiles declared, raising his cup of water in a mock toast.

We laughed, the sound echoing through the room, momentarily drowning out the distant howls of werewolves. The snacks disappeared quickly as we lost ourselves in conversation, the night ticking away in the cozy chaos of Stiles' room.

We then found ourselves asking each other questions, comparing them to some old answers we gave as kids. The questions went from favorite movies to favorite school subjects.

"Okay, do you have a crush on someone?" I inquired.

Stiles chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, Y/N, if you must know, my heart belongs to the supernatural mysteries of Beacon Hills."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Come on, Stiles, I'm serious. Spill the beans."

He sighed dramatically, feigning reluctance. "Alright, alright. Maybe there's this one person who has a mysterious aura, a penchant for solving supernatural crimes, and a killer sense of humor."

I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "Oh really? Sounds like someone I know."

Stiles grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Maybe someone who's sitting right here, sharing snacks, and making my chaotic room feel like the most comfortable place in the world."