Dylan O'Brien Imagines

My hero Pt. 1 (Stiles Stilinski)

Stiles Stilinski

Scott landed flawlessly on all fours. His eyes glowered a burning bright red, the raging flames evident in those ruby orbs. The Alpha bared his razor-sharp fangs at the opposing pack, as if challenging them to fight. Yet, excruciating pain flashed in those eyes. Scott knew he couldn't last any longer, the sharp pain shooting through his body. There was a trickle of blood from the side of the boy's lips. Huge bloody gnashes were etched deep into all parts of his upper body, the cuts open to reveal a mess of red tissue and torn skin. The skin around it began to reform, closing the cut as quickly as possible, but not fast enough. Stiles ran towards his best friend, with you following suit. Just the sight of the wounds were enough to make the bile in his stomach rise in his throat, a slightly acidic sensation burning in his gullet. The clumsy but shrewd boy distracted himself from the sight, trying to shake off the nightmarish view which he knew would come back to haunt him. His veiny fingers curled around his trusty bat, a classic weapon that a typical Stiles used. Stiles' free hand held tightly onto your wrist, carefully guiding you towards the scene.

As much as Stiles, your best friend, disapproved of you to come, you were sure a fighter. You always argued with him about going on these risky adventures that involved fights with the supernatural that roamed around Beacon Hills. Whenever Stiles denied you, you threatened to fight him, but of course, you didn't actually want to hurt him, knowing clearly that he would give in. You were trained by your father since young about defense skills and how to handle weapons. You could easily beat up anyone in school considering your years of training, so no one ever dared to mess with you. Most steered clear from you, especially when you were cranky. However, Stiles always supported you and stayed by your side. Even though he might have unintentionally provoked you with his sarcastic nature, and you snapped, almost beating him up into a battered being, he always forgave you. The boy cared about you so much, always considering your safety and protecting you. The boy who was a klutz but also a genius. You soon found yourself falling for Stiles, always staring with infatuation at hin. The messy brown hair that poked out from all directions, honey orbs, the constellation of moles that were scattered around his face and even looking at the little muscles the amateur lacrosse player had. You loved Stiles and wanted to protect him like he protected you, to care for him. However, you were also quite certain that he treated all his close friends this way and that he most likely didn't like you in that way. The boy had a huge crush on Lydia Martin since third grade and you knew that nothing would change that. It was no use trying to bring him out of that. The truth made your heart wrench.