Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Her (Part 2) // Stiles Stilinski

It had been a very eventful two months since Y/N made her debut in Beacon Hills and got the opportunity to meet Scott, Stiles, and the rest of the pack. It only took about a week or two of her new friends making rain-checks and being secretive with one another for her to make them reveal the reason for their sneaking around.

That was the day that Y/N discovered that humans weren't the only living things to dwell in the small town. She discovered the supernatural.

The pack, minus a reluctant Stiles, all agreed to her joining the pack and helping them fight the evil creatures that went bump in the night. Although Stiles acted excited for her joining their little group, he was more terrified than anything. The mere thought of having to cradle her dying self in his arms haunted him every second of the day.

Lately, Stiles has been wishing that Y/N would've just chosen another place to live in as part of her exchange student program and to just forget about Beacon Hills; forget about him. As much as he likes having her there with him, he doesn't want anything to happen to her. If the girl he was certainly sure he was in love with would get hurt, he'd go mad.

Your P.O.V

I was upstairs working on some last-minute homework when a knock on the door tore me away from it. Furrowing my brows, I made my way downstairs and opened the door.

"Stiles?" As high as my heart leaped when I saw him standing there, I was still confused. "What are you—"

"Can I come in?" He interrupted, playing with his hands as if they were a very complex rubik's cube.

"Yeah, sure." I replied uneasily, taking note of his serious behavior. Brows still furrowed, I walked backwards pulling the door with me until the normally sarcastic and energetic boy was able to walk in. I closed the door before leading the way up to my clean bedroom and plopping down onto my comfy desk chair. Stiles, more fidgety than normal, took a seat on my bed, leaning forward until his arms balanced themselves on his legs. "Is everything okay? Did someone get hurt?"

"Have you ever considered getting out of this place?" Stiles asked quietly, his voice straining the slightest bit.

"Like out of Beacon Hills?" I asked, to which he only nodded. "Well, even if I wanted to I can't. Why, have you?"

"Not a lot."

I hesitated, the gears turning so hard in my head that I'm surprised my head hadn't began to smoke. "Then why would you be asking me that?"

"I think you should leave." He uttered quickly, looking anywhere and everywhere but at me.

I wasn't quite sure what to say, my eyebrows raised as my mouth opened and closed. My eyes searched his face as if I would find a proper reply there. "What?"

"I think you need to leave Beacon Hills." Stiles repeated, seeming to be more confident than before, but not enough to mask the obvious guilt splattered all over his face.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. I'm not deaf, Stiles . . . but . . . why?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt." Stiles answered truthfully.

"Stiles, I've been here for a few months now and not one thing has hurt me!" I was now beginning to grow impatient with him. How dare he just walk into my house without an explanation and tell me to leave!

"That doesn't mean anything!" His voice raised, showing that his patience was decreasing rapidly. "A couple of lucky run-ins with the supernatural doesn't mean you still can't get hurt!"

"I've been learning my way around a bow, Stiles. I'm not totally defenseless!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, what happens if or when we run into something that can't be taken down with a few little arrows, huh?"

Sometime during this shouting match, we had stood up from our seats. Just now I took the time to notice how close we were, chests heaving.

"Yeah, if! If we run into something!"

"It's going to happen." The brunette boy spoke at a much quieter volume, his eyes looking deep into mine "Something . . . really bad is going to wreak havoc in this town and you'll get hurt and I won't be able to do anything about it."

My eyes softened, my hands finding Stiles's biceps. I never really knew he felt this way. "Stiles, I won't get hurt. If something really bad comes then I'll stay out of the way. I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"Stiles—"

"Don't, please."

The distraught teen plopped back down onto the bed with a sigh, tugging a hand through his hair. I sat down beside him, uncharacteristically quiet. Together, we welcomed the silence, avoiding any eye contact with each other.

After gaining enough courage to look over at Stiles, I realized he was already looking at me. He looked at me with such gentleness that made my heart shake. Slowly, subtly, he began to lean in.

A surge of panic attacked my insides, before I found myself moving closer to the adorable, geeky boy beside me. As we met together in the middle, I could've sworn I felt fireworks and cannons go off. Our lips moved together in perfect sync, neither daring to pull away. His hand reached up to stroke the side of my face, pulling me even closer than before. With a sudden jolt in my chest, it dawned on me just now how much I really loved Stiles. Sure, it had only been two months, but I was sure that it was love.

Suddenly, he pulled away just the slightest bit. "You can't leave."

"I know," I smirked, feeling my heart swell upon the realization to just how much Stiles cared.

A smile tugged on Stiles's lips, before latching his lips onto mine again. Moving to Beacon Hills had signed me up for a crazy ride. I can't wait to continue it now that Stiles was by my side.