Hurt (Stiles Stilinski)

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Stiles Stilinski

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Stiles Stilinski

Jackson grabbed a fistful of Stiles' shirt, pushing him against the locker which gave a metallic cling that echoed down the quiet hallway. The boy with buzzcut winced, head slamming hard against the cool metal. Now, the notorious lacrosse captain glared at Stiles, the fire in his eyes burning angrily, nostrils flaring.

"Don't ever come near (y/n) again." Jackson grunted, eyes boring into Stiles' soul like a grim reaper.

"You can't stop me. C'mon you really think you're so tough just cause you're the 'popular boy and the lacrosse captain'? You don't even care about her! You treat her like crap and don't think I don't know what's going on. Besides, I can kick your ass easily." Stiles bit back, attempting to twist free from Jackson's iron grip.

That statement provoked Jackson's temper, causing it to flare, like hot lava bursting out of a volcano. Before Stiles knew it, he as being jerked forward and with a burst of force, his back hit the locker doors again, causing a sore pain to shoot through his entire back and head.

"Say that again?"

"You aren't shit." Stiles enunciated each word slowly, a smirk tugging up at his lips.

That was the last straw.

In a split second, a large fist broke through the thick air, making contact with Stiles' left cheek. Immediately, a hot pain shot through the boy's face like an arrow piercing into his cheek. One more Hercules-like punch at the same spot and Stiles would be going to the hospital with a broken cheekbone.

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