Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Pun Master // Stiles Stilinski

A groan of frustration left you, chucking another used tissue into the garbage can beside you. Curling into yourself, you wiped away a few more tears as you opted to scroll through your phone as a distraction. That deemed useless and detrimental, however, as you found yourself scrolling through your photos and spotting the countless selfies with none other than Stiles Stilinski.

You yearned for better times, before everything went to absolute shit. When the first thing you saw every morning were those effervescent amber eyes, still clouded over with fatigue. When he would hug you from behind and tell you how beautiful you looked. When you both embraced your inner carnival-fanatics and went to fair after fair winning admittedly lame prizes and kissing atop the ferris wheel. When your friends would tell you how much they wished for a relationship like yours.

Now, you were alone. He had stormed out hours ago to a destination you had yet to discover, and all because of a stupid fight. They had been occuring a great deal more recently, over the most irrelevant topics that you could think of. You were both just aggravated over how the love you shared for one another had began to diminish. Angry at yourselves for not trying harder to salvage what once used to be so magical.

On your way to the kitchen to chug a glass of water, a stifled gasp escaped at the sight you stumbled upon downstairs. Stiles Stilinski laying face down on the couch, clearly in distraught. His head shot up at your quieted exclamation, relief flooding his bloodshot eyes. Scrambling off the furniture, he slowly stalked towards you. "Thank God—I didn't think you'd still be here."

Another tear slid down your cheek, and you couldn't find the strength to wipe it away. His eyes followed the water droplet's path with regret and concern. You sighed, a shaky breath deflating you. "Considering my current mental state, I knew it wouldn't have been safe for me to try driving home. Plus, I—I didn't think you'd come back tonight."

"I'm glad you stayed." He answered earnestly, his slurred words alerting you that he drunk, or tipsy at the very least. He must have been at the bar all these hours. You wanted to be mad, but you honestly couldn't blame him. "Baby, hear me out. I—"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I heard everything before you stormed out of here."

"I was way out of line, sweetheart." He walked closer, the distance between you decreasing little by little. Your feet remained glued to your spot on the carpet, eyes stuck to his. You wanted nothing more than to be swept into his arms, to put the past behind you. No more lies, no more arguments, just endless love that was surely just buried deep down. Together, they could dig it back up and clean it off, good as new. "I was just . . . angry."

"Obviously," You mumbled quietly, albeit loud enough for the sad boy before you to hear. Guilt filled your heart at the heartbroken expression that covered his face.

Licking his lips anxiously, he continued. "I love you, Y/N. So. Much. I can't imagine living in this world without you. Yes, we fight a lot. Yes, we don't see each other as much as I know we should, I just . . . I want to change. For you. For us. I want to a better boyfriend, because you don't deserve the shit that I've put you through. I want to just hold you, and protect you from . . . well, everything bad. Believe me, I know this is asking for a lot, but . . . can I have a second chance?"

"Stiles . . ." You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears dripped from your eyes. Stiles stepped closer and bravely swiped those tears from your face, keeping a warm hand there. Your eyes met, and you were able to see that same boy that you fell for back in high school. Like you were falling in love all over again.

"You want to know what I got at the store yesterday?"

"What?" You furrowed her brows, perplexed by the shift of conversation.

"Come on. Just sit down." He gently guided you to sit on the couch and began to walk towards the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

You sat in confusion, silence, and slight intrigue for the few moments he was gone. Sniffling back the last grouping of tears leftover from earlier, you patiently awaited for the love of your life to return to you.

When he did, a small book was clutched tightly between his hands.

"What are you—"

He kindly shushed you, a playful grin on his lips as he flipped to a random page. Clearing his throat, he read the large, colorful words it held. "It was an emotional wedding. Even the cake was in tiers."

Your confusion increased a colossal amount, furrowing your brows at the boy who was seemingly struggling to hold in his laughter.

"Get it? The cake's in tiers? But like—"

"No, I get it." You nodded, unable to find the humor in this situation just yet. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Trying to make you laugh. Now, shut up." Traveling to another page, he smirked. "What did the triangle say to the circle? You're so pointless!"

"Oh, my God. I'm gonna be sick."

"Did you hear about the guy who got hit with a can of soda? He was lucky it was a soft drink."

"Let me look at this." The smallest chuckle left you, hands brushing his as you took the book from his grasp. You tucked your hair behind your ear as you glanced over some of the pages. A miniscule smile slid across your lips. Taking a peek at his dopey grin, you shook your head in disbelief. "A pun book? I can't believe you actually bought this."

"It's actually why I was late coming home today." He explained softly, and you immediately felt awful. "The lines at the store were extra long today, and by the time I was almost home, I remembered that I had to get gas."

"Baby—"

"Hey, it's okay." He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into his warm touch. "That doesn't explain why I've been late every other day this past week . . . and the week before that . . . and before that."

"Can we just forget this happened?"

"Forget what exactly?"

"The arguments, the screaming, the yelling; every single negative aspect about our relationship. I just want to start over."

"In that case," He held his hand out for a shake, grins spilling onto both of your faces. "My name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski, but please don't actually call me that. My friends call me Stiles."

You giggled, taking his hand in yours for a gentle shake. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Pleasure to meet you—I'm sorry—Coleslaw, was it?"

He poked your side playfully, prompting another giggle from you. He grinned, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You stopped him. "Sorry, I don't kiss before the first date."

"Well, I better hurry and take you out soon, then." He smirked, running a finger through your hair.

"You better."

Smiles possessed both of your faces as he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your head as the two of you fell further into the couch. He pulled the pun book away from you and continued to read. "I was wondering why the baseball was getting bigger, then it hit me."

"Okay, babe. That's enough." You chuckled, trying to close the book. Stiles simply escaped your hands, standing up and creating distance between you.

"Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right now."

"Stiles, come on."

"I can't believe I got fired from the calendar factory. All I did was take a day off!"

"Fuck."

"Hey, why was Cinderella thrown off the basketball team? She ran away from the ball."

"Okay, enOUGH! ENOUGH WITH YOUR PUNS!"

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lol i really need to start writing for more characters other than stiles

i have a problem

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check out "Pretty Little Miracles" by JediKnightStilinski on wattpad!

tumblr: sophisticatedstiles