Stiles Stilinski Imagines

~stiles~ stay (light smut)

To be quite honest, I am not much of a people person you could say. In other terms, I am very much a literal bitch. I don't really like to converse with many people, one of which being Stiles fucking Stilinski. See, we are both apart of the same pack. I moved to Beacon Hills a few months into my sophomore year, and quickly befriended Scott McCall, and upon learning his secret I revealed mine. I am a witch, mostly specializing in blood magic though I am strong in most other forms. Anyways though, I have been friends with Scott since then, but Stiles, no. He irritates me, always finds ways to point out my flaws or he gives me nothing more than sarcastic remarks. This all making it difficult to get along, but the most annoying part? Somehow, Stiles and I are the two the pack always goes to for information or research or mysteries solved, and they always want us working together. Fucking blows, right?

So with that being said here we are, Stiles sitting at his desk on a Friday night, me sitting back against the wall attempting not to rip his fucking throat out. We have been researching about the dread doctors for around two and a half hours now, the clock reads 2am.

"No, Stiles, fucking listen to me. We can't ambush the Doctors unless you want us all to die," I almost yell at him. We have been at each others throats for 15 minutes now, and I can barely take it anymore.

"I have been fucking listening (Y/N), but that's the only way we can get any real information," Stiles retorts with vile in his voice. "Seeing as you have been useless this whole time," he mumbles under his breath, turning back around to stare at his papers. Okay, that's it, I am quite literally done. I stand up from my seat on the floor walking over to his desk. Turning his chair around I grab the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him up to meet my eyes. He stands a good five inches taller than me, but he has proven to be not that intimidating.

"I am not the useless one. If you rub those two minuscule brain cells together then you might be able to realize why that would get us killed, but no, you just want to demolish everything in your fucking path." He has a mixed look of shock and anger on his face, but he doesn't say anything. So I continue. "Nothing to say? Fine, I'm done here, I'm going home," I turn around when Stiles catches my wrist and pulls me around.

"Fine then, be done, but I'm not letting you drive home this late at night. Just sleep here," he slightly motions his hand at his queen sized bed in the corner of his room. I raise my eyebrow at him, there's no way in hell I'm sleeping in here.

"No, hell no. I'm not sleeping in your bed. You probably just want to watch me sleep like the perv you are." Stiles rolls his eyes.

"I'll sleep on he couch, just fucking listen and sleep here." He sits back down and goes back to reading. Fine, he wants to play this game, I'll play his game. So I go over to the spot where I was sitting, taking off my hoodie revealing a tight black  tank lined in lace. I kick off my shoes and go over to the side of his bed, roughly falling onto it. Stiles turns around.

"For fucks sake (Y/N) could you-," fully turning around, his eyes trained now on my bare midriff and slightly revealed cleavage.

"Do what, Stiles. Spit it out." I see him swallow, he runs a hand through his hair obviously flustered at staring at me.

"Just try not to break anything," He breathes out. "I'm going downstairs, if you need anything don't ask," he stands up and walks out. Wow, what great hospitality. Now that he's gone I pull up the sheets and crawl under them. They smell like Stiles, and I hate myself for liking the comforting smell. What the fuck, no, Stiles is not a comforting person. I hate him, he hates me, but why did he look at me like that, and why did he get so flustered. I slowly start to drift off thinking about Stiles, and the hunger in his eyes when he looked at me.