Dylan O'brien & Other-Smut-Imagines

Jealousy

From the moment I met Stiles Stilinski, I've made it my mission to shut him up any way possible. The boy likes to talk and argue about anything and everything. The days that I render him unable to form words is a small victory in my book. He's smart...smarter than anyone I've ever met. Besides myself of course. The fact that I can hold my own in debates against him may cause a little bit of tension in the pack every now and then, but it's so god damn entertaining to see him lose his shit and fumble over his words. Stiles is a man of words. When words are at a complete loss to him, it's the most gratifying thing in the world, especially if you are the one making his brain overload so much that all he can do is stare at you with his mouth agape.
I came to Beacon Hills about a year ago and was accepted into Scott's pack almost instantly, courtesy of Lydia of course. She was the first person to approach me on that first day, introducing me to everyone. It was there, in the middle of the lunchroom, that Stiles and I got into our first argument. Which I won by the way. It was something about World War II and Stiles ended up being off by a year in his calculations. He got so frustrated and angry that he ended up storming out, leaving everyone flabbergasted. Lydia was especially friendly to me after that, telling me that no one had ever been able to shut Stiles up like that, let alone proven him wrong. No one ever proved Stiles Stilinski wrong. And that's how I earned the nickname Sparky from the pack.

"I'm not having this argument again, Stiles. You know how I feel about this. You know who I will choose," I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at the spastic boy in front of me.

"Yeah yeah, Sparky, BUT! What if it was just hand to hand? No utility belts, no special gadgetry, no shield. Just a straight up, good ol' fist fight?" He points his finger at me, eyebrows raised in question.

"Cap, hands down."

"What?! How can you even say that? Batman is trained in, like, a bajillion different forms of martial arts! He would take Captain America out in less than two minutes!"

"He may be trained in a "bajillion" different forms of martial arts, but Cap is stronger. He doesn't fatigue, Stiles. The serum prevents him from tiring out. He would basically rope-a-dope that motherfucker and then knock him out cold," I smile smugly.

"I-you...god damn it!" His hands fly up into the air, his frustration making his face redden.

"Told ya dude, can't fuck with Cap."

"You are so annoying. Why do I even try talking to you?" Stiles growls, clenching his fists in front of his face.

"I ask myself this question everyday. Every time you open your mouth, I feel the sudden need to punch you in the throat. Especially when you try to talk all this nonsense about Batman being better than Captain America."

Scott shakes his head as he walks out of the kitchen. I hold my hand behind my back and he slaps it as he walks behind me, laughing.

"Bro, you know how she is. Why even try to rile her up?" Scott calls over his shoulder.

"You know, you're supposed to be my best friend!"

"It's because he likes me better. Plus, I'm smarter," I grab an apple off the counter and take a bite, smiling.

"You are not smarter and he takes your side because you have tits," Stiles' eyes wander down to my low cut tank top.

"Do you need to be smacked today, Stilinski?"

"Do you need some Midol? Because you're awfully bitchy today!"

"I'm gonna fucking deck you," I take a step towards Stiles and Scott grabs my arms from behind me as Stiles jumps back, throwing his hands up.