One shots/Imagines

40. Stiles Stilinski

author: sourcherryandsprinkles

Summary: You confessed your feelings to Stiles

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word count: 0.5k

You left Lydia's birthday party early. Stiles had offered to take you home after faking to feel unwell. You felt bad for lying to him, but he didn't seem to be getting the many hints that you liked him, so you took the matter into your own hands.

Stiles got in the driver seat and pulled out of Lydia's driveway and onto the street. ''Are you going to be sick? Just tell me and I'll pull over. I don't want to have to clean the jeep-''

''Stiles. I'm not feeling unwell,'' you admitted, playing with the hem of your dress. ''That was an excuse to have you to myself.''

He pulled his eyebrows together, not getting it. ''Eh, why?''

You sighed. Stiles might be one of the most intelligent person you knew, but sometimes he was terrible at taking hints and flirting. ''I don't want us to be friends anymore.''

''Wow.'' A veil of emotion crashed over his face, truly hurt, getting the wrong message. ''You know there's gentler ways to say things like that?''

''No! You don't get it,'' you corrected. ''Stiles, I...I want us to be more than friends.''

The light before you turned red and Stiles hit the brakes, the Jeep coming to an abrupt stop. You put your hand on the dashboard to stop you from hitting your head on it.

He was usually a smoother driver.

Stiles turned to you. ''Why? I mean...why did you have to say this now? I'm driving, Y/N! You distracted me. I almost burned a red!'' He was full on word vomiting, not knowing how to process the bomb you had just dropped on him.

You looked down in guilt. ''I'm sorry.''

Stiles shook his head, still recovering from his initial shock. ''It's okay. I just wasn't expecting that. Give a guy a warning next time.'' He breathed out, running a hand through his hair.

''Next time?!'' you exclaimed, turning your whole body toward him on the seat. ''Stiles, I'm being serious.''

''And so am I!''

''Did you not register anything that I said? I said-''

''I did. Trust me, I did.'' His hands were sweaty and his shirt was suddenly tight around his neck. He needed to roll down a window. Get some fresh air.

''Then why haven't you said anything? I'm dying over here, drowning in anxiety, waiting for you to say something. Anything.''

''Because I don't know what to say. You know I don't do well under pressure or with unplanned things.''

''Do you like me or not, Stiles? It's simple.''

''Yes! Of course I do, I-''

That's all you needed to hear to lean over the gearshift and kiss him.

For the second time tonight, Stiles was speechless.

It took him a few seconds to kiss back, but you soon felt his hand on your cheek and put yours at the back of his neck, your fingers grazing against his hair.

''Wow. That was a good kiss. An excellent kiss. Not that I have many to compare to. I'm not that kind of guy. You know, the one that kisses multiple girls. I'm not saying it's wrong. Everyone can do whatever they want and kiss whoever they want, but- ''

''Stiles. Shut. Up.'' You pressed your forehead against his, holding back a laugh at his rambling.

He nodded, his eyes flickering down to your dress. ''That's a really pretty dress you got on.''

''I know. I wore it for you,'' you replied. ''But I'd rather you take it off.''