Dylan O'Brien Imagines.

Strip Club - Part One | Stiles Stilinski

This will be three or more parts. I haven't actually decided yet!

The past six months have been fucking hell and I don't know how much more I can take. I hate being degraded by mothers and grandmothers that see me walking in here. I hate how guys think I'll easily break the rules and give them blowies in the back. I hate this place and I wish I didn't have to work here.

I previously worked at a financial company, but since that company had been shut down because of fraud, which I was unaware of while it was happening, I was unemployed and struggling to afford to live in my apartment. I was desperate to find a job. So now here I am, working as a stripper at the Pink Flamingo.

I walked into work that night, not making eye contact with anyone as I strolled towards the back. I gave a small smile to the girls as I walked by in the back, heading towards my dressing room and as I entered, I collapsed on the couch, wishing I could go home already.

"Y/N? You okay, babe?" Candy asked through the door and I groaned a bit, getting up off the couch to let the redhead inside. She closed the door behind her as I sat down at my vanity, beginning to do my makeup.

"Yeah. Just the usual feeling." I muttered, glancing at her through the mirror as she dug out my hair products. Every time Candy and I worked together, she would always style my hair since I was absolute shit at it.

Stiles walked into the apartment he shared with Scott after a grueling day of interning with his dad at the Sheriff's department. He threw his keys on the coffee table, plopping onto the couch, a loud sigh escaping his lips as Scott walked into the living room.

"Hey, man. Everything okay?" Scott asked and Stiles shrugged his shoulders, scrolling through his phone. Displeased with what he saw on his social media, he tossed his phone onto the cushions.

"I think I'm just tired? I don't really know, dude." Stiles sighed, looking back at Scott. Scott clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a small smile.

"Alright, get up and get ready!" Scott hollered as he walked down the hallway, Stiles looking at the spot he was just standing in, a confused look on his face as he got up, walking into his room.

"What the fuck do I even wear? I don't even know where we're going." He sighed, opening his dresser drawers, pulling out a red t-shirt and a pair of tan khakis. Stiles slipped on his Adidas as Scott poked his head into the room, a grin on his lips.

"Ready, dude?" He asked and Stiles nodded his head, following Scott out of their apartment. He tossed Scott his keys, although he'd rather drive his baby, but Stiles had no idea where Scott was bringing him.

The two of them made small talk in the Jeep as Scott focused on the road, Stiles looking out the window, admiring how the city lights lit up in the night. Scott pulled into a place that had pink neon lights around the building, a basic stripper logo as a sign and Stiles glanced over at Scott.

"Scott?" He asked, glancing over at him. "Why are we at a strip club?" Scott smirked at him, getting out of the jeep as Stiles followed suit, both of them walking into the building.

"Because, Stiles, you're stressed out and need to relax a little. What better way to relax then look at half naked women dance around on a stage?" Scott asked and Stiles' lips parted as he saw all the dancers on stage and walking around the floor, his cheeks flushing a bit.

"I-I don't know, Scott. You know that girls make me nervous already, but half naked girls? God." He muttered, staring at the girl who had just walked out on stage, admiring everything about her.

The song that I always dance to begins to play when I walked out onto stage, swaying my hips back and forth, the men hollering as my hand wrapped around the stripper pole, gliding around it as a fake smile is on my lips. I dance seductively for everyone in the club as I felt an intense stare on my body. I looked over as I twirled around the pole, one of my legs wrapped around it, catching a glimpse of the guy staring me down. He's cute. Hazelnut brown hair that is spiked up, beautiful whiskey colored orbs, moles splashing across his left cheek and he's got the pinkest lips I've ever seen a guy have. I danced in front of him and his friend, shaking my ass, slapping my hand against my cheek as I gave him a cheeky smirk. Both of them placed a few dollar bills in the waistband of my g-string before I finished my set and walked into the backroom. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, always feeling sweaty after dancing, even though my dance only lasts for forty-five minutes. I fixed up my makeup, seeing Candy walk into my room, a smirk on her lips as she crosses her arms.