Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Lacrosse// Stiles Stilinski

You watched him play many times, but you didn't know how to play.

You played softball, but that was nothing compared to what they do. Running bases was nothing to running up and down a field, tackling people. Hitting, throwing the ball was nothing compared to one being thrown hundred miles an hour. Pitching was nothing to tackling.

So yeah, you could say he had the upper hand when he asked for a back massage.

You were studying Physics when he came out dressed in a pair of gym shorts, a t shirt, and his cleats, his stick in his hand. You had on a pair of sweatpants, and a hoodie, his hoodie to be specific.

"C'mon you have my jersey on, come out and lemme teach you." He wraps his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I should study." You grinned, trying to ignore him.

"You can take a break," he said, kissing your neck just under your ear. "Half an hour."

"Fine." You give in, turning to peck his lips quickly before slipping on a pair of converse.

You followed him outside, handing you an extra lacrosse stick.

You bought him some goals and balls for christmas a few years back.

"Okay so what you do is you keep the ball in here and basically throw it at me with everything you've got," he says. "See I'm the goalie, so I try to keep you from scoring."

I nod, picking up the ball with the stick.

"So you throw it just the way you throw a softball, except with a stick," he explains. "So you put a hand here," he puts a hand near the top of the stick. "And one here." One near the bottom.

You mirror him easily. You follow him and throw the ball, it landing in his stick.

"That was...perfect," he smiles. "Now try to get it past me."

You easily throw it past him, the ball hitting the net. "Oooh score!"

He pouts as you break into a victory dance. You turn and shake you rear at him before something hard stings it.

You gasp and turn around, a ball lying at your feet, and a smirk on Stiles' face.

"Ooh I'm gonna get you." You run over to him, jumping on his back as he tried to run away, his hands clasping your shins.

He flipped you over his shoulder, landing softly on the ground, Stiles on top of you.

You burst into a fit of giggles, him with you.

He reached up and pressed his lips to yours, a smile on your face.

You were so glad that you agreed to take that break.