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| "My scream wasn't loud enough so I let it out through the literature" |
    Hello this is not a request i just wanted to thank you for my imagine it was awesomeūüėä and i really hope you continue to write cause your imagines are the best

    Ahh thank you sweetie ‚ô• and You’re very welcome.

    Stiles Stilinski - “Pretty Miss Martin” (FOR BRIANNA-JOY)

    Through Snapchat, you end up telling Stiles how you’re not the biggest fan of his good friend, Lydia.¬†

    | GIF credit to  |


    "Hangin with the lydia"

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Is what Stiles’ snapchat story reads. It’s a photo of Lydia sitting on Stiles’ lap. You knew he was invited to her mom’s birthday dinner at the banquet hall, and that he couldn’t bring along you as a plus one, but it doesn’t make you feel better to see her sitting on his lap.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You throw your phone down on the desk and go back to researching through files with Derek at the police station. Derek is speaking to you, but all you can think of is Lydia damn Martin. Sure, she was mostly nice to you; she did your hair one time for the dance, and she also bought you lunch one day when you were short, but she was just so… intimidating.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Hey, B?” Derek asks, but you’re still looking off into space. “Joy? Hello?”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Your phone lit up and you had a Snapchat notification from Stiles. Hesistantly, you open it, revealing a short video of him yelling too loudly, “SCOTT DO YOU WISH JOY WAS HERE?”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† The camera quickly pans to Scott who’s sitting on a couch saying, “Not really.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Two seconds later Stiles is yelling again. “SCOTTY NO.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You almost want to start laughing when you see Scott fake crying and saying, “I’m sorry Joy. I wish you were here. Don’t kill me.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Quickly, you take a photo of the papers infront of you and type, “You have Lydia as company instead.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Right when you click send, Derek is calling your name again. “Brianna-Joy, are you even listening to me?”

    You look up to see him glaring at you furiously.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Uh. What?” You mumble, putting your phone down again.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Did you figure anything out? I’m thinking Parrish could be a Phoenix, but-“

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You shake your head and out of the corner of your eye you see your phone light up again with a snap from Stiles. You interrupt Derek completely as your hands reach for your phone so you can see a frowning Stiles with the caption, “But she’s not you.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† And¬† I’m not her, is all that you can think. Stiles has been in love with Lydia for a majority of his life. That couldn’t have just faded away all of a sudden in the past year when you arrived to town. You are just an awkward teenager with no parents, who has to live with Derek Hale of all people. Sure, you’re a werewolf, but Lydia is a banshee, which is like a thousand times cooler. She’s even worth more than you on the deadpool; the benefactor even thinks she’s cooler than you.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Joy, seriously?” Derek is back to glaring at you. You smile at him sheepishly and he throws his arms up. “I’m going to get some coffee. I give up on trying to talk to you.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You take a frowning photo of yourself, captioning it, “Tell Scott I say hi. Lydia too.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Almost instantly, you get a reply, captioned, “Lydia left because she wasn’t feeling well. But Scott says hi.”

    Before you can even reply to that one he sends you a photo of the floor instead of his face. "Can I ask a serious question?"

    You raise an eyebrow at that, but tell him, “Sure?”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Do you even like Lydia?”

    Okay, so, you’re Stiles’ girlfriend, you should probably like Lydia considering she’s his best friend besides Scott. And all this time, you had Stiles convinced you liked her even though deep down she made you as insecure as ever. But, it was time to tell the truth.”

                    Although, instead of sending your whole internal thoughts to him, all you send is, "She has nice hair."

    Stiles snapchats a photo of him glaring into the camera; no caption needed.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Fine. She’s not my favourite person.”

    You put your phone down and stare at it while you wait for him to respond. You can see that he’s opened the snap, but a minute passes and he doesn’t respond. A minute then becomes two.. then three then four then five and soon enough you give up. He probably is telling Lydia about your secret hate for her, and the two of them are on their way to the station to hunt you down and stab you and then let you heal slowly over and over again. ¬†¬†¬†¬†

                    Groaning, you burry your head into the papers scattered across the desk because your life is over.

    However, your phone begins to ring.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Hello?” You answer the second that you see Stiles’ name on the screen.

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I had to get outside to call you. It was just really noisy in the banquet hall.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Okay.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles doesn’t even pause. “So you don’t like Lydia? I totally knew it. You always glare at the wall whenever I bring her up.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I’m sorry. But she has nice hair.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You have nice hair. She actually is jealous of your hair because it’s so long.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Okay. Well, her eyes are prettier.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Oh geez, really Joy?” You can hear the laugh in his tone. “Your eyes are both Hazel. But yours are nicer, I’ll admit.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “But her-“

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Don’t compare yourself to her.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You loved her first,” you spit out and he goes quiet. “Uh… Scott told me a while ago. How you’ve been in love with her since like third grade. That couldn’t have just gone away.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I don’t love her like that anymore. That was a silly crush I had. I was in love with the idea of her. Now, she’s my good friend, but the love there is strictly platonic, I promise you.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “What if she likes you? She acts like it sometimes.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† He chuckles. “I don’t think so. But even if she does, she’ll get over it and find someone right for her. I love you, and she’s not going to change that.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You promise.”

    ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I promise.”

        What's your next request?

        It’s one for a girl named Brianna-Joy. She didn’t give a very specific prompt. She only said “I’m insecure about Lydia and stuff” so I’m making one where Stiles’ girlfriend doesn’t like Lydia very much but she has to pretend to for Stiles’ sake. And ¬†then he happens to be hanging out with her at a party and he snapchats some photos.¬†

          U wrote 2 other fics! When did that happen?

          Yes I did! I’m so so sorry that I take forever to post them. I hardly have any free time these days but don’t worry I’ll get to all of the requests eventually.¬†

          Stiles Stilinski - “What We Are”¬†

          You and Stiles act awfully couple-y and everyone starts asking you whether you’re dating or not, but you can’t even answer that question, so you have to ask Stiles himself, which ends up getting you stuck in his kitchen for a very awkward dinner with his Dad.¬†

          | GIF credit to volxble |


          Derek, out of all people, was the first to ask, yet you didn’t think about it much. It was while the two of you were making cookies in the loft for Melissa for Mother’s Day. “You have a date with your boyfriend tonight?” Derek asked in that tone of his which makes him sound like he couldn’t care less even though he sort of does care -you know, in his own little Derek way.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “My boyfriend?” You ask, crinkling your nose.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Stiles?”

                      Instead of giving him a real answer, you stare off into space with confusion for a moment before beginning to read the cookie recipe out loud to him so that he can fetch the ingredients.

                      Lydia was the second to ask.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Did you go see Stiles today?” She asked on a Saturday evening while you braided her hair during your weekly movie night.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “No. Though, I did go to his place last night after the pack meeting. Why?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Her back was turned to you, but you knew that she was smirking. “He was quite touchy with you last night. What did you do when you got back to his place?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Supposedly, you could tell her what the two of you did -which was each other -but that was none of her business. “We watched that Michael J. Fox movie where he turns into a werewolf.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† She doesn’t ask about it again until Monday morning when the two of you are standing with Kira at your locker. Lydia makes a point, while pursing her lips, to reach out and poke the photo that you have in your locker of you and Stiles in a photo booth. Everyone’s seen the photos of him kissing your cheek, or you poking his nose, and even the last one where he’s smiling too much while trying to kiss you; everyone has seen these photos but suddenly she was pointing it out. “You guys make a cute couple,” Lydia told you.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “We aren’t a couple.” You didn’t even look at the photo.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Kira looked puzzled. “You’re not? But- that makes no sense. He kissed you in front of me just yesterday after breakfast at Scott’s house.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Purely friendly. He kissed my cheek.” It wasn’t true, but maybe Kira would fall for it.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Alright… Well, I do think he likes you.” Even though Kira sort of fell for it, Lydia was still squinting her eyes at you. You tried ignoring her stares, and then Kira was gesturing down the hall. “Hey look who it is.”

                      Alongside Scott, Stiles was walking right towards the three of you. When you shut your locker, Scott was poking your side.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Good morning. Are we still up for videogames after school?” Scott asks; his smile perfectly bright for the foggy morning.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “If I survive Econ,” you grinned. Your eyes flickered over to Stiles, who was clutching onto his backpack straps and smiling softly at you.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† As the bell rung, your friends started scattering to class, but before you could do the same, Stiles took hold of your hand. “Do you seriously have to hang out with Scott today? You’ve seen him play video games. He always reaches for the chip bowl at the wrong time and then suddenly,” Stiles waved his spare arm around dramatically, “there’s chips everywhere!”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Despite your laugh, you had to tell him, “I do have to. I like hanging out with him. Geez, you’re not my only friend.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Well,” Stiles scratched the back of his neck, “we’re not friends, exactly. You’re like… Uh-” But then Stiles was cut off by Finstock who was yelling at the two of you to get to class. Stiles released your hand. “I’ll catch you at lunch.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† That day you couldn’t think. You most likely didn’t do very well on your Econ pop quiz because of Stiles. You avoided him at lunch time, and basically sped all the way to Scott’s house when the final bell rang. Luckily, Scott didn’t seem to notice the way that you dragged him out of the school and ran a red light.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Oh, so in chemistry class, Stiles was-” Scott started telling you a story while the two of you sat in his room, but you cut him off.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Can we not talk about Stiles?” You asked right before shooting a zombie’s brains out.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “But it’s funny. He got in trouble because the teacher heard him talking about how cool it is to find dead bodies. Now, if it was Finstock, he would’ve been all good, but nope, Stiles got detention because he’s apparently a mentally disturbed child. That makes no sense to me.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “That’s nice.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Are you okay? He’s your boyfriend. This is so funny. Now you can make fun of him. You should be saying Thank you, Scotty!”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You quickly grab a chip before replying. “He’s not my boyfriend. Why does everyone keep saying that?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Well, the two of you do kiss a lot and everyone sees you hold hands practically 24/7. Oh, and maybe because you’re sleeping together,” Scott blurted out just as you were munching on some chips.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “How did you know that!? He didn’t tell you did he? I’m going to kill him!” You mumble angrily through your full mouth.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “He didn’t tell me. I can smell it on you, you gross teenager, you.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You had to pause the video game because you felt lightheaded. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “No. But I’m sure they’ve figured it out. Especially Derek. Oh, he knows. Particularly because Derek sort of lives with you so he has to hear everything whenever Stiles comes over and-“

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I get it!”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Scott took a sip of some soda. “Are you okay?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Has Stiles ever said that we’re dating?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “No. He just never shuts up about you. It’s annoying, really. But I guess it’s payback for what I used to do with Allison. I still do that, actually.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You smiled to yourself. “He never shuts up about me?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “God no. He’s such so love struck that it’s nauseating and I should be mad at you for doing it to him, but then again I can’t be mad at you because it’s so sweet seeing the two of you together.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I need to talk to him. Crap, Scott, I really need to figure out what the two of us are.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Humans.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “No,” you furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, if the two of us are dating or not. Are we just friends with benefits or…”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Is it love?” He seemed pretty amused as he leaned back holding the chip bowl. You nodded and of course, he told you to go.


          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† ¬†You had planned out everything you were going to say on the car ride to Stiles’ house; you basically had a script planned out in your mind and it was awesome. Right when Stiles opened the door, you were going to say it, and it was going to be amazing and you were going to live happily ever after, except it wasn’t Stiles who answered the door, it was his dad.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “(Y/N)? Hello. I didn’t know you were coming over. Stiles is helping me with dinner right now,” The sheriff greeted.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Oh. I can come back tomorrow, sorry,” You quickly tried to excuse yourself because your plan was failing you.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Come join us! We have plenty of Chinese food to go around.” He practically dragged you inside.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You swear repeatedly to yourself in your head, but you can’t turn back now, especially when you walk into their kitchen to see Stiles wearing a simple black t-shirt; the sleeves cling around his biceps in a pleasing way, and you feel a sense of serenity seeing him wear it while opening a box of takeout.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Dad, who was it- Oh,” Stiles pauses and stares at you. “Y/N. Hi.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Set a plate for her. She’s staying for dinner.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I didn’t know we were setting plates,” Stiles raises an eyebrow. “It’s just takeout. I was going to take it out to the backyard and eat it by myself.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Well, we’re setting plates now!” The sheriff announces, getting out the cutlery.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You stare at Stiles, quite nervously. He smiles at you and sets the table really quickly. As he walks by you to get to his seat you whisper, “I’m sorry, I needed to talk to you and I didn’t realize your dad was going to be home and-“

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing your arm. “It’s more than okay, actually. This is nice for me. For you, it might kind of suck because my dad likes to ask weird questions so I’m really sorry-“

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “So, (Y/N), I don’t see you very often,” John remarks. “Stiles never shuts up about you. I hear you’re still living with that Derek kid.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Dad,” Stiles casts his dad an embarrassed look as he takes a seat.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You take a seat across from the sheriff. “I do, yeah. Though, Derek’s not really a kid…”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I can’t even imagine living with him. It’s probably worse than living with Stiles. The kid is so loud. He broke two plates last week because he spent five hours watching YouTube videos on how to spin them,” the Sheriff glares right at his son.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Dad, seriously?” Stiles glares right back.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Uh..” you stare between the two of them, “Derek isn’t so bad. He’s quiet. And he has great reflexes so we don’t break any plates.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “But you’re still dating this kid,” John grins, gesturing to his son.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Please stop,” Stiles frowns at his dad just as you say, “Oh, we aren’t dating- I mean-“

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† The two of them are then looking at you. John is confused but you can’t really read Stiles’ expression. The fact that he’s not saying anything isn’t really helping your situation either.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You’re not dating?” John repeats as a question.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Well we aren’t not dating,” Stiles stares at you for a moment before quickly glancing back at his dad.

                      You try to just eat your food, hoping that they change the subject. Apparently, they all have the same idea as you, so it ends up in all of you sitting quietly, eating your food and not making eye contact with one another.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Um,” you speak up, “thank you for having me. I really should get going though.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles puts down his chopsticks as he finishes eating, and he looks at you with disappointment, as if he doesn’t want you to leave.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “It was nice seeing you again,” The sheriff smiles, but it seems forced.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I uh… wait, I can help wash the dishes?” You suggest as Stiles stands up, taking your plate for you.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “No, you don’t have to-”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You cut John off, “I want to.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I have never heard of a kid wanting to wash the dishes but alright,” John sighs and stands up. “I have to head out anyways. Late shift again.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles hugs his dad goodbye before grabbing his plate for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Bye, Sherriff,” you smile, heading over to the sink. He gives you a little wave before he actually leaves.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Even when he’s gone, you still feel really awkward as you stand and begin to wash the dishes. Stiles leans against the counter, watching you as he waits to dry.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Sorry about him,” he finally says after what feels like two years of silence.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just a dad.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “We haven’t really labelled our relationship yet, and he just always assumes stuff, and-“

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “That’s why I came here actually.” You bite your lip, putting the cleaned plate down to be rinsed and then dried.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† He blinks. “What?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You turn to him but don’t quite look at him just yet. “I had a plan of what to say and everything. It was going to be really romantic and your dad wasn’t supposed to be here and-“

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Romantic?” He cuts you off grinning.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I-” you cut yourself off and look at him. His smile angers you because it’s so adorably distracting. He shouldn’t be allowed to smile at you like that, because instead of telling him how you feel, you end up kissing him right there next to the sink, while you’re still holding the dish towel.

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Before you can wrap your fingers in his hair, he’s pulling back and saying it all for you. “You came here to ask me if we were really dating or not.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Yes I did.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† His pink lips turn up into another one of his smiles. “Well, I’d really love it if we could be actually dating. You can call me your boyfriend and everything. You can be the Kurt to my Blaine.”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Is that a Glee reference?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “What other couple do you know where their names are Kurt and Blaine?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You laugh. “That’s true. But can I be Blaine instead?”

          ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† He kisses your nose. “Whatever you want.”


              Request: Stiles and y/n have had a thing with no labels and the whole group has been asking what they are, a series of events unfolds and they are left to decide what they are and what they want to be, leaving the ultimate question for them to answer - is it friends with benefits or love

              I loved this request a lot but what I ended up writing, I’ll admit, wasn’t my best work, but hopefully it’s still alright and meets some expectations. Also, I added a really subtle dog pun in there directed at Derek that’s so subtle that I doubt anyone will even catch it and if you do tell be because then I’ll feel proud. Anyways, have a lovely day and a lovely read. Also, thank you for having a really well worded prompt.¬†

              Stiles Stilinski - “Trophy” (FOR EMILY)

              You are one of the star soccer players at school while Stiles is on the lacrosse team. You finally get over your fear of being a trophy wife and let the two of you become the school’s cute sporty couple.¬†

              | GIF credit to mccallstillinski |


              As you retie your shoes on the side of the field, Kira is drinking from her water bottle and looking off at the bleachers to where your boyfriend is sitting, clutching a sign that reads, “GO EMILY,” in really bright letters that always stand out in the audience. The edges of the paper are sort of crinkled and torn because he has brought the thing to every single game of yours this season.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Emily, can I ask you something?” Kira sits beside you, still glancing behind her.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Make it quick. I have to go out there again really soon.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Her eyes flicker to you finally and she gestures towards the bleachers. “He comes to every single soccer game. Yet I’ve seen you at about two of our lacrosse games this season.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “That’s not a question.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I’m trying to ask why you never show up at our games?”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You grin and look back at Stiles. He’s hopelessly biting his lip and letting his leg bounce while he watches the game. For a moment, he catches your eye and starts smiling bashfully and waving so hard that he actually hits Scott in the face, which has Scott holding his nose and stares at Stiles a bit stunned. But Stiles ignores Scott and you smile back softly, giving him a small wave.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I don’t go to your lacrosse games because it makes me mad that you’re the star player in both the soccer and lacrosse teams,” you smile at Kira, poking her nose. “I’m obviously just so jealous of you.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† She looks flattered for a second but she rolls her eyes. “I’m serious, Em.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You open your mouth to tell her but then the coach interrupts. “Emily! Get your ass out here! Break time is over!”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You jump to your feet, excited to get back out to the field, but before you run away, you quickly turn back to Kira and tell her, “Malia once told me I was a trophy wife. I really hate that term. I don’t want to be Stiles’ “trophy wife”.”


                              The next night, you are sitting peacefully in the loft, reading an old novel about the 40s that Derek recommended. As usual, he is home and ignoring you, glaring at the wall in the living room, while you sit on the terrace, admiring the sunset. Being roommates with Derek has always been a peaceful living situation, if you ignore all the people with guns or supernatural powers that have come in set out to kill you.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† On Friday nights like this night, you usually can be found doing exactly this, just maybe with a more interesting less “Derek” book. And your friends can usually be found getting ready for the lacrosse game. It’s how you like things, but then Derek decides to ruin your usual Friday night schedule by poking his head out the door and telling you, “You have guests.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Huh?” You mumble, looking up from your book.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† He glares. “I’m not saying it again.” And then he’s gone.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You slam down your book and go inside to see what he’s talking about. Turns out, Lydia, Kira, and have all come to pay you a visit.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Get on a sweater. You’re coming to the game,” Lydia tells you, crossing her arms in all seriousness.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Uh. Hello to you too.” You furrow your eyebrows together.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I didn’t want to come here,” Malia announces.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Malia, you’re not helping,” Kira whispers to her politely.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Malia rolls her eyes and gives you a look, “Are you coming or not?”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Not. I am fine here.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Oh get over yourself!” Malia walks towards you and grabs onto your arm. “Kira told me what you said and I’m sorry for calling you a trophy wife.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “She’s new to being human. She didn’t get how it could be a negative thing,” Lydia explains, looking bored. ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Suddenly, behind you, you hear someone giggle oh so lightly that you don’t even know if you’re really hearing what you think you’re hearing, especially when you turn around and see Derek grinning at you. “You don’t want to go to Stiles’ games because you feel like a trophy wife?”

                              You frown, crossing your arms over your chest, not having a comeback to that.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Just come with us,” Malia tugs at your sleeve again. “Surprise Stiles. He would really love it. We even made you a sign, but don’t worry you can take all the credit.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “But at least say that I helped,” Lydia tells you. “He’s not going to believe that you drew the designs all by yourself.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† That’s when you realize that Kira is holding a poster behind her back. She smiles a bit embarrassedly as she pulls it out, displaying the bright, “Get a score, 24!”¬†

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I would never write that,” you argue.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Okay, well then you can say Kira came up with it,” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Hurry up. The game starts soon.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “And if you’re not going for Stiles, then at least go for me,” Kira stares up at you with a sad look purposely to make you feel at fault.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You look to Derek to help you out and maybe defend your actions, but he’s just grinning at his shoes, probably still making fun of you in his head, so he’s not going to give you anything. The only choice you have, is to get your sweater and go with them.


              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I still don’t like this idea,” you mutter, shivering on a bleacher just as the team is warming up. Stiles hasn’t noticed you yet; it’s not like he’s looking through the crowd expecting you to be here anyways. It makes you feel sort of guilty, actually.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Then why are you wearing Stiles’ sweater?” Lydia teases, pursing her lips as she wraps her scarf around her neck.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You clutch your arms tighter around the burgundy sweater, not looking Lydia in the eye. “It’s warm, okay?”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† She looks at you for a moment before coming closer to you. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you’re his trophy or anything. It doesn’t make you any less of an independent individual. For example, you don’t think any less of Stiles because he comes to all of your games.”

                              You take a deep breath in as the game starts, and you thank her telepathically through a smile which she returns.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles is benched for the first little while of the game but eventually Finstock does call him. Stiles is hopping around the field, and you can’t help but feel a bit excited for him and you wave your poster around without thinking and scream his name.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† He’s still hopping around for a few seconds until he pauses and stands still. You’re pretty sure that something is wrong with him at first, until he swiftly turns around to look in the crowd after he recognizes your voice. Once he spots you, he jumps in the air and waves, and suddenly, this feels all worth it. His smile is priceless and you feel significantly good about yourself when he even scores.


              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You came!” He yells, running up to the bleachers once the game is all over. He throws off his helmet, hopping over seats to get to you.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You’ll have to thank us for that,” Lydia smiles, moving out of Stiles’ way so that he can pull you into a sweaty embrace, which is surprisingly fulfilling.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I love you guys so much,” he pats Lydia on the head but then turns back to you. “Especially you. I love you. You never come to my games. I also love the sign. You didn’t come up with it, did you?”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Kira did,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I apparently have the best friends in the world.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You do. And I apparently have the best girlfriend in the world,” he grins before kissing both of your cheeks.

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You grab his face, and pull him in to kiss your lips instead, which is rather assuring for the both of you. “I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t come to many games this season.”

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I don’t care. It’s okay. But um… is this a onetime thing or are you going to start coming regularly-“

              ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You kiss him again, pressing your hand against his chest to feel his strong heartbeat, which you aren’t sure whether it’s from running around on the field, or seeing you. “I think this is going to become a regular thing.”

                  Could you write me a oneshot where I'm a really good soccer player at beacon hills high school and stiles and I become the cute sporty couple (because he becomes a varsity lacrosse player)? My name is Emily btw! Thanks so much <3

                  Okay! I’m not entirely sure I wrote exactly what you were expecting, but hopefully it’s still okay. I’m also sorry that this took so long to be posted. And if you play soccer in real life, then that’s super cool and I hope you’re doing really well because I bet you’re amazing. Have a lovely day and continue playing (or not playing if you don’t actually play,. Then just play something else like Cards Against Humanity because that’s always fun.) xx

                  Stiles Stilinski - "Shakespeare’s Stiles"

                  You and Stiles have been casted as the leads of your school’s production of Romeo and Juliet.¬†Playing your love interest really starts to bring up some feelings within Stiles; the same type of feelings that you’ve already had for years.¬†


                  "Stiles, what do you think you’re doing?" Finstock yells, slamming down the script onto his director’s chair.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles wipes his smile away. “I am just doing my lines.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “But I told you to that you are supposed to stand outside the home, not right beside (Y/N).”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “But coach-“

                                  "I am Mr. Director in here, Stilinski!" Finstock raises a finger as he interrupts Stiles.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Okay. But, Mr. Director, I feel like Romeo should be standing right by Juliet’s side right from the beginning, you know-“

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “You are star crossed lovers. You stand across the room from each other. Got it?”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles sighs and goes back to the edge of the stage, which is meant to be the front yard of the Capulets .He pouts for a moment before you jokingly reach out your arm as if you’re longing for his touch. “Don’t worry, my Romeo, you can stand by me when we get married later.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Still pouting, he reached his arm out too. “And in five minutes when we get to make out, my dear Juliet.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You laugh at that, but inside you feel like exploding. For the past few weeks, the cast of Beacon Hills High’s school production of Romeo and Juliet has been rehearsing in the auditorium. You love playing Juliet; you love the gowns Lydia has been designing for you, and you also love getting to watch your friends sword fight. But most of all, you love how your Romeo is being played by Stiles. Sure, he still thinks of you as a friend; you’re pretty sure he’s not about to serenade you and take you riding off into the sunset. But you still are looking forward to this kiss… Which has not even been practiced¬† yet. Finstock, for some reason, keeps avoiding the rehearsal of any scenes with kisses between you and Stiles, and you’re getting more and more anxious everyday because you really need his lips on yours. Like, today. Luckily, after three weeks of rehearsals, Finstock has finally designated today for the first kiss.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Get on with the scene!” Finstock is practically screaming while you and Stiles giggle at each other from across the stage.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Do you mean to say action?” Scott says quietly, standing as Mercutio amongst some extras.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Action!”

                                  And the scene begins.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† It’s the moment when Romeo and Juliet first lock eyes. Finstock directed that the two of you do so while standing near the doorway where the guests of the party aren’t really around. Stiles has to stand just in front of the Capulet home. He removes his mask and stares around at the place before his eyes catch your glance. You think back to the first time you met him, which was actually quite similar to this. You were in your yard when Stiles rode by with Scott, the two of them riding skateboards. Or, rather, Scott rode the skateboard while Stiles fell on his own, right in front of your house. He had a scraped cheek due to the face plant, but the sun hit is face in a hypnotizing way that made his eyes turn to copper and the blood turn to a rich crimson paint; he became a art piece in a gallery. He caught eyes with you, that hot summer day, and right away you fell in love with his stupid face and the cute way he smiled at you only partially embarrassed.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† That’s the moment you think about as you do the scene.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You are pulled out of your daydream when Isaac, who is playing Paris, pulls you inside the “mansion” again to dance.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† The scene continues as you and Stiles hopelessly gaze at each other then begin to desperately follow each other around the set. You say your lines that you’ve been rehearsing in your room with Allison for the past three weeks. The words come so naturally that you don’t even think about them because you’re actually thinking about how in ten seconds you get to kiss the boy you’ve been in¬† love with for years.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “…Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” you say, proud of yourself and the fact that you’re even able to make the words out.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Stiles licks his damn lip and tells you in his proper Shakespearean tone, “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† And then he kisses you. You were semi worried at first, because Finstock did say that it didn’t have to be a real kiss, it could just be a stage kiss, and so when Stiles lifts his hand to your cheek you are fairly certain that he is going to place his finger over your mouth and get the stage kiss out of the way, but no, he just moves his hand up to caress your face, and the kiss feels… real. You can feel that he was almost just as nervous and scared yet equally excited as you are.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† When he pulls back, his cheeks are rosier than they usually are around you, and he breaths out the rest of his line, “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Then have my lips the sin that they have took.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† You can see how hard Stiles is trying not to grin bashfully. “Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Maybe it’s the way that he practically clings onto you, or the way that his lips are back onto yours so quickly, that you know there’s no way he doesn’t want this as much as you do. By then, you’re completely gone, and so is he. By that second kiss, which is longer and more tender, you forget, wholly, where you are or who you are. You don’t even realize how long the kiss has gone on for until Finstock starts screaming again.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Cut! Stop this! Cut!” Finstock’s yell pierces through the auditorium. “That is quite enough for one day!”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Coach, we didn’t even finish the scene,” Stiles wines, goddamn it. ¬†

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “It’s Mr. Direct- Oh for Pete’s sake! I don’t care. I’ve seen enough kissing and I’m tired and I want to go home.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Finstock picks up his papers while the rest of the cast starts mumbling to each other and heading off the stage. While everyone is leaving around you, you and Stiles stay put, starting at each other’s shoes with your fingers still interlocked.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “That was good, right?” You ask softly, rubbing your thumb over his hand, but suddenly he’s jerking away as if he’s realized something.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “That was- I have to- I mean- You’re amazing- I lo- I have to go.” His eyes are wide in udder confusion, and he walks backwards, off the set. “I’ll see you Monday.”

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “Stiles, are you okay?” You ask worriedly.

                  ¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† “I just need to figure some things out,” he waves his arm around and you can hear him swear under his breath. “Till we meet again, Juliet! Oh crap, I mean, goodbye. I’m leaving now.” He sucks in his breath, and stares at you as if he’s confused of his own actions before he swiftly turns and leaves, tripping over some chords before he’s out of sight and you realize that he’s not scared of you, he actually did feel something moments ago when you kissed.

                                  This should be an interesting play, you decide. 

                      Could i suggest something? Y/N has a crush on Stiles, but he doesnt know it. Stiles and Y/N are going to star in the school production play as love interest. Ehehe you can decide what happens next ^.^

                      Oh I love this idea! I went with the really cliche’d Romeo and Juliet, if that’s okay with you. Hopefully this is sort of what you were looking for and if you want to request a part II feel free to! Or if you’d like to request a different one be written using a play of your choice.¬†