Teen wolf imagines:)

The belle of the ball is you. -Stiles

"Are you going to the ball? You know the ball they are throwing in this fancy ballroom." She asked.

He scrunched his nose and looked into her beseeching stare. Her eyes went soft with wanting him to go.

He sighed.

He knew she did not like going to those affairs, but deep down, if he attended she will most likely go as well.

"I suppose I can go for a scant moment. Besides, I want to dance with the belle of the ball." He silently watched her eyes lower at his words, a sign of sadness in her eyes at the thought of him dancing with the belle of the ball and not her saddened her.

Such a look warmed his heart.

"Oh!" She whispered, looking away.

A teasing grin tugged at his lips.

"Y/n?"

She looked up with her sad eyes.

"The belle of the ball is you."

(😫😫)