A hoard of Teen Wolf fanfics

Stiam; Lacrosse

Liam POV
Panting. I heard panting, even though I had no idea where from.

"Hey, do you guys hear that?" I asked, my voice thickly laced with worry.

"Hear what?" Mason asked, turning his head to look at me.

"The panting noise?" Scott asked, his voice reminiscent of mine. Worry, we were worrying. I nodded my head in response and Mason looked between us, clearly confused.

"Alright....okay then, that's... that's great. Now, what do mean 'panting'?" He asked, moving his hands around swiftly.

"Someone's running?" I asked Scott, narrowing my eyes slightly with uncertainty. He hummed in response, nodding his head after a few seconds of delay.

As if on queue, Stiles, not so gracefully, ran towards us. All three of us were stood on the sidelines of the field, with Stiles approaching us with heavy breathes.

"Dude, why are you running? The game doesn't start for another ten minutes." Scott asked, his voice full of pure amusement.

"In case you haven't noticed, Scotty Boy, not all of us have supernatural speed. I would've been at least twenty minutes late if I hadn't have ran here." Stiles retorted, sarcasm dripping off each individual syllable included in his mini rant.

I took a moment to take it in; the way his wide eyes carried hints of stolen sunlight, had a story behind the chocolate brown. A story I would live to read right through, a depth of raw emotion. They're a fix of melted chocolate, with a gaze that's so unwavering. The brown of earth's unfettered beauty, that I yearn to memorise.

Woah, when did I become a poet?

But I do love how his breath mists the wind, and how easy I can lose my mind to his contrasting pale skin.

I'm screwed.

Suddenly, I was forcefully dragged out of my thoughts by the sound of a whistle and the yells of coach.

During the game, I couldn't help but stare at Stiles. Even if he was a bench warmer, he still held such a strong presence.

"Liam!" I heard Scott whisper-yell towards me.

"What?" I asked, we were stood plenty miles apart; but thanks to the whole heightened senses thing we could hear each other very clearly.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, although I couldn't tell if it was curiosity or suspiciousness that was shaping his voice's tone.

"Nothing. I'm staring at nothing, Scott."

"Yeah, right." He retorted, sarcasm clear in his voice. "And I'm Beyoncé."

"Obviously." I answered, returning my focus on the game.

To be entirely truthful, I had no idea what I was doing. I just kind of ran around the pitch, occasionally shouting at Scott to do something.

Man, Stiles is distracting.

Screw it, I'm giving up. I threw my cane-thingy on the floor and ran towards the benches, ignoring the shouts from my teammates and coach.

I made my way to Stiles seconds later, "Liam? Why aren't you playing?" He asked innocently.

"I,uh, I can't be bothered. I-"

"You have no idea what you're doing?" He interrupted, guessing at what I was going to say.

"Yes..." I answered, my voice trailing off slightly. I probably sounded uncertain to him.

"Come on, let's go. I can't deal with them all shouting 'Dunbar' repeatedly. I'll go deaf." He said, causing me to chuckle due to amusement. Stiles grinned and gripped onto my arm with a weak force.

Minutes later we were in the parking lot.

"You looked like a lost puppy!" Stiles laughed, causing me to frown.

"I'm not a puppy." I whined, crossing my arms across my chest in an over-the-top manner.

"Yes, you are! You act like one, and you're cute like one!" He exclaimed, but stopped once he realised what he said. "I didn't mean cute- I mean you are cute, but I didn't mean to call-"

"Pshh, of course I'm cute." I laughed, trying to prevent Stiles from feeling even more embarrassed than before. He was making it awkward.

Luckily, he chuckled in amusement.

"I didn't know you had a big ego, Dunbar." He said, slightly stepping forwards.

"Ugh, don't call me that. You know I hate it when people call me by my last name." I groaned.

He stepped closer again, grabbing ahold of my shirt. "Why?"

"It's not my name." I answered, he snorted in response.

"I don't know if you noticed, but it kinda is your name. Liam Dunbar." He said, putting stress on 'Dunbar'. I groaned again and he chuckled under his breath.

"Stilinski." I said, narrowing my eyes at him. We were around the same height now.

"I'm used to it." He said quietly, lifting his head slightly to lock eyes with me. Our legs are pretty much intertwined at this point, we were stood that close. Our breaths were mixing.

"You're a building, what stands so tall, yet one single word could demolish you. And that word is your name?" He asked.

"Jesus, are you a poet?"

"My names not Jesus. And no."

"Touché."

"But I am pretty much Jesus." He laughed, leaning in even closer if possible. "What do you think?" He asked, leaning in right next to my ear. "Dunbar."

As his warm breath hit my ear, making me shudder in anticipation, he smiled slyly. Suddenly, he pulled back; his hand rested on my shoulder. I looked him in the eye, whispering "why don't you persuade me?" with the last of my energy.

"Is that a challenge?" He asked, smirking at my reaction.

"I guess." I breathed out, this boy is going to kill me one day. He hummed in response, slowly nodding his head in thought. All of a sudden, he turned on his heel and walked away; waving to me on his way to his jeep.

I nodded my head as he drove off, I'm utterly dumbfounded.

"Liam!" I heard someone yell, a familiar voice. I turned my head and spotted a figure running towards me.

"Scott?" I asked, steeping towards him as I saw his face.

"Where did you go?"

"Here."

"Why?"

"I couldn't focus." I said, looking back to where Stiles had previously stood. I frowned.

That boy was in the easiest position to destroy my life; and I am more than willing to drown in those eyes.