Sterek meets Dazed and Confused (90s movie)
Stiles stumbled through the side gate like a castaway reaching shore. Sweaty, disheveled, with a twig stuck in his shirt, he leaned on his knees, trying not to puke the two granola bars he had for breakfast.
— I’m alive — he whispered, laughing to himself, hands on his hips. — I actually did it. I escaped.
The courtyard seemed calm. Too calm.
The sun was already dipping lower in the sky, bathing the school in golden light. The seniors were nowhere to be seen. Only the faint sound of a distant radio and one very dramatic crow perched on the gym roof broke the silence.
Stiles twirled on his heels like in some imaginary musical, arms wide.
— Derek Hale, you’ll never catch me! I am the ninja of high school!
— Well, well… — came a voice sweet like strawberry-flavored poison. — What do we have here?
Stiles froze. Turned slowly.
Skin flawless even in the heat, eyes narrowed like she was about to dissect a curious insect. Behind her, like loyal shadows, were Erica and Allison - each carrying suspicious buckets, mustard bottles, and looks far too dangerous for a late afternoon.
— Lydia! Hi! What a wonderful coincidence running into you here, haha… I was just… coming back to… die quietly of heatstroke in the shade. You haven’t seen… Derek, have you? Because… I was running, but that’s over now, I think... — Stiles rambled, backing away.
Erica was already grinning.
— He escaped? — she whispered to Lydia, delighted.
Lydia crossed her arms and tilted her head.
— You’re a freshman, right?
— Technically, yes. But spiritually, I’m a senior — Stiles replied, switching to full-on sarcastic social desperation. — I like tea, jazz, and have chronic back pain. I’m basically an old man trapped in a teenager’s body.
— And you ran from the senior hazing — Lydia concluded, ignoring all of that.
— Only for survival reasons! I’m fragile. I’m allergic to flour. I have asthma…
— Then I think it’s only fair… you make up for your absence. With the girls.
— The girls? — Stiles frowned. — What girls?
That’s when he saw it: all the freshman girls on their knees, covered in flour, ketchup, and whipped cream, wearing makeshift veils and glaring with pure hatred.
— NOOOO — Stiles groaned.
— Yeeees — sang Erica and Allison in unison.
— Please, let’s talk. I have solid arguments. This is illegal! This is humiliating! This violates human rights!
Allison gently pushed him by the shoulders.
Lydia spun on her heels like a ringmaster and announced:
— And now, ladies and gentlemen who clearly have nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon… we present the first male freshman to undergo the Wedding Degradation Ceremony!
A crowd appeared from who-knows-where and applauded. Jackson whistled. Danny held up a handmade sign that read JusticieForStiles (yes, spelled wrong).
Stiles looked around, no way out. Then Erica shoved him toward the black Chevy Impala - like some kind of poetic revenge.
The guy Stiles had spent the whole afternoon running from.
Derek was sitting on the hood of his car, amusement on his face - until he saw Erica making the weird freshman kneel in front of him.
Stiles wanted to laugh (or cry) at the irony of it all, but instead, he played along.
— Derek Hale… — Stiles began theatrically, covered in whipped cream, flour, and shame. — Even knowing you’d hunt me down for decades… even knowing you probably don’t remember my name… I, Stiles Stilinski, hereby declare… that I want to marry you. But only if you promise not to use the baseball bat.
Derek looked at him for a long time, green eyes studying the creature kneeling in front of him.
Then he said, voice rough:
— Only if you promise not to run next time.
— That was a yes! — Lydia cut in before Stiles could argue. — CEREMONY COMPLETE. Take the picture.
Allison clicked a Polaroid.
Stiles was still on his knees.
And not just from the humiliation.
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
dededos
2087
theartofmadeline
baratheonpilled
turnnoffyourmind