Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Prince Charming | Dylan O'Brien (AU)

Imagine #17

Y/F/C: Your Favorite Color

Word Count: 2232

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Y/N'S POV:

My burgundy pumps click-clacked against the ground, my fingers tips holding the sides of my dress so it didn't drag on the dirty cement. I cautiously climb up the porch stairs, trying my best not to trip in these high heels. I couldn't break a ankle now, I thought to myself. My knuckles meet with the wooden door and I adjust the mask on my face for about the twentieth time tonight.

A groan leaves from me when I realize that no one would hear my silent knock over the music blasting from inside of the home. With that I open the door, the scents of weed and beer floating to my scrunched nose. Taking a step inside, I shut the door behind me, my eyes meeting with people who were basically jumping one an other's bones with their dry humping choreography. My hands slide from the grip on my dress, letting it all fall and drag against the floor.

"Y/N Y/L/N! Ugh that better be you or I swear to god!" A furious voice squeals from my left.

I turn my head to see my one and only best friend, Holland Roden. Her beautifully baby pink dress went up to her knees, white flats covered her feet, then her hair was half up-half down and the makeup was outstanding.

I place an apologetic grin on my lips, going closer to her. "Hello my gorgeous best friend."

"Don't gorgeous best friend me!" She points her finger at me, with a serious look in her eyes. "Why in the hell are you late? You were suppose to help set up before people arrived."

"I know, and I'm sorry." I huff, glancing down guiltily. "It's just that I had to run some errands, I really am sorry though."

Holland bites the inside of her cheek, probably debating whether or not she should forgive me.

"Look," I begin while tugging out a black box from one of the built in pockets on my dress. "Hopefully this can make up for my tardiness."

She doesn't waste anytime, snatching the object away from me, and ripping the top part of it off. Her hand flies up to her mouth once she notices what's in inside the little box.

"You did not. . ." She breathes out while holding up the golden bracelet with her name engraved on it. "How much did it cost?"

"I did." I smile in success. "And the price is only for me to know. All you need to worry about is enjoying the fact that you finally got one after like six years of begging for it."

Without responding, her arms wrap around me and she gives me one of her famous bone crushing hugs. I giggle, applying the same type of hug to my best friend, both of us sighing into each other's shoulders.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" I joke, causing her to lightly laugh.

"Definitely." She grins, pulling away for me and slipping the shiny chain of jewelry onto her wrist. "Since you're finally here, I think my fun can finally begin."

A devious smirk appears upon her face as she grasps onto my upper arm and began to lug me through the crowd. Her grip tightens since she wasn't trying to lose me in the mob of drunken bodies.

After about two minutes of walking, she stops us in our tracks once we approach the kitchen where hundreds of red solo cups filled up all the counters. My eyes widen at the thought having to help her clean this up the next morning.

"Don't trust any of those. I'm going to get you another beer from the fridge, because I saved the special one just for you." She winks, letting go of my arm and stalking off to the silver refrigerator.