Dylan O'brien & Other-Smut-Imagines

It's Not Lydia...

Today 3:45PM

S: Hey! Where are you? I thought you were going to meet us in the library?

I roll my eyes and type out my reply.

Me: sorry I had a headache so I came home. What do you need? I can do stuff from here.

I wait as the three little dots on my screen come and go.

S: You're always doing stuff at home. I feel like we haven't seen you in months.

"Because you haven't, genius!" I yell at my phone.

Me: Sorry?

The dots are there, taunting me. I wait. And wait. Then they disappear and I just snap, tossing my phone on the floor as I pull my pillow over my face and scream as loud as I can into it. As I'm kicking my feet against my bed I hear someone clearing their throat and I freeze. Someone has just seen me throwing a tantrum like a five year old. I suddenly feel like suffocating myself with this pillow.

"Who's that?" My voice muffled from the pillow.

"Hey, uh it's, it's me. Stiles?"

Sweet Christ you've got to be kidding me.

"Everything okay? You seem to be having a fit of some kind."

"I'm fine! Go away, please!"

"Yeah...no, I'm not leaving."

"Stiles, go the fuck away. I don't wanna talk to you."

"See, that's exactly why I'm not leaving."

"Stiles seriously. Go away. I'm not in the mood for your shit."

The pillow is suddenly ripped from my face and I'm greeted by those golden brown eyes hovering just a foot from my face.

"What. The. Fuck."

"I don't care if you're in the mood or not. Something's going on with you. No, something has been going on with you for months and I wanna know what it is. You've been playing hermit and locking yourself away in this damn house. We only see you when you deem it absolutely necessary to show up in person. Otherwise it's like talking to a robot over damn text messages. What the hell is going on, Bean?"

The affectionate nickname pulls at my heart strings as I look into those worried brown eyes.

"I'm just going through some shit. I didn't want to bring everyone else down with my bad moods," I sit up and cross my legs under me.

Stiles has his thinking face on, clearly trying to find the right words to use.

"Is it because of me and Lydia?" He outright asks and I flinch, completely surprised that he would just come out and ask.

"What? What do you mean?" I try to feign confusion but he gives me that look.

"I know."

"You know what?"

"I know that you like Lydia."

"What?!"

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I am totally open to all things. Danny's gay and we're completely cool. I just don't understand why you feel it necessary to hide from us, like we wouldn't understa-"

"Stiles! I like guys! I don't have a thing for Lydia! Damn it, did Scott tell you all this?"

"I-Uh...No?"

I glare at him, this time I actually want to light him on fire with my mind.

"Okay, yes! Scott told me, but only after I pried it out of him. He said he didn't think you'd want people to know. Wait...so you don't have a thing for Lydia?"