I always start with good ideas and good intentions, I swear.
This is my collection of unfinished imagines and story drafts. That means that most of these are just what I felt like writing with all the middle, filler bits left out. Enjoy my unfinish...
Context: CRIBGE CRIBGE CRINGE OH GOD I CANT BELIEVE I WROTE THIS EW
He read the text again.
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
Again. Again. One last time. He groaned, locked his phone, threw it on his bed. His desk chair creaked as he leaned back in it, thinking. There was no way in hell this was actually happening.she was messing with him and he wasn't going to fall for it. . . He fell and scrambled for his phone, desperate to read the words again: Come make out with me He sighed, heart heavy and full and dying and screaming and– He read it again. With me With HER. Lydia Martin. Come make out with Lydia Martin.
He felt a headache coming on from thinking too much.
HE GOES Lydia opened the front door in pajama pants and a tank top, her hair and makeup still done up from the day. "Stiles?" His heart shattered. It was obvious she wasn't expecting to see him. It was obviously a mistake. "Uhm-" he dug his phone out of his pocket, "you sent me this and I didn't really know what to do so..."
"Oh god, this is so embarassing." "I meant to send it to Aiden." And that was it, his heart completely cracked down the middle and all hope of ever being with her went down the drain. "Aiden." He repeated. Aiden her ex-boyfriend. Aiden, the big strong attractive werewolf. Aiden. . .with an A "Our names shouldn't even be alphabetically close to each other in your contacts." She shyly mumbled, "You're saved under 'asshole'." "Oh."
"Hey–" she tucked hair behind her ear, "you came." "Huh?" "When I sent the text I said to come over and you did." She crossed her arms, feeling a little cocky. A blush rose to his cheeks. He was caught. BUSTED. He had to think quickly. "Yea-yeah, uhm. I just–oh shit– don't take this the wrong way or anything but I thought maybe you were drunk or high or something and I didn't want you to do anything stupid. So I came over to check on you." "Not because you wanted to make out with me?" "No." He shook his head quickly, trying to seem convincing. He couldn't look her in the eyes because he just knew he would give himself away if he did. So his gaze settled on the keys to the jeep.
"You wanna come inside and watch a movie? I was just in the middle of making an Icecream sundae. . ." She kind of sang the 'sundae' part. He chuckled. "I guess I can't say no to that." But part of him was still hoping that text was still for him.
Lydia's back hit the fridge as Stiles' lips slid carelessly from her own and down her jaw, past her neck before settling on her collar bone where he began to work on marking her. He had to crouch slightly to do this but it'd be worth it when she showed up to school the next day with his hickey on her skin. "I lied." She sighed. "What?" "I lied, I lied, I sent it to you." Stiles left her chest to kiss her lips again and she moaned. "The text?" He asked against her. She nodded. "Yeah." He grinned, cupping her cheeks. "So you have a crush on me, Lyds?"
NEXT DAY "What are you wearing?" Scott snickered as Lydia continued to scratch. "A turtle neck." She grumbled. "Is someone threatening you?" "Like you would know anything about fashion." "I know enough to know that thing is definitely giving you a rash." Lydia groaned, truly not caring who was in the hall before ripping the turtle neck sweater off, leaving her in the light pink tank top that had been underneath. Scott gawked. "Holy shit, what attacked you?" Lydia gave him her best angry face as the alpha examined her neck and chest. It almost looked painful.
Stiles bit his lip. "Wow, I should be the next Picasso."
