Various Array of One Shots ✔️

The Note >> Stiles Stilinski X Reader

Title: The Note

Paring: Stiles Stilinski X Reader

Warnings: none

Spoilers: none

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Inferno, that's what it was.

Economics with Coach was just utter torture, and you weren't sure that he was completely oblivious to the fact or that he knew it and wanted to make it more worse. So when the principle called him over to chat midway a pep-talk, you slid down in your chair and gave the biggest sigh ever given from mankind.

Like a punctured tyre, the rest of the class followed you in their bemoaning their fate. It was then you felt a tap on your shoulder, and turning, you grinned.

Scott McCall, your best friend since preschool grinned.

"Hi, uh, _______, erm..." He stuttered, frowning. You'd noticed since the new girl Alison had come to the school he'd had a thing for her, and it made his speech go haywire. "Stiles, he wanted to give you this."

Into your lap fell a folded piece of blue post-it note sized paper the familiar messy scrawl of handwriting you'd see scratched into late essays for classes. You'd never loved anyone else's script more than Stilinski's.

Behind you you heard a distinct, "Scott, I said don't say it's from me..." As your eyes scanned the paper with a soft smile on your face.

Want to sit with us at lunch? - S It said on the torn-out exercise book page.

With a now obvious grin on your face, you turned the paper over to write your reply.

I'd love to, thanks Stiles, you scribbled hastily, noticing the principle and coach's talk was waning to the point of almost returning to the lesson.

As you origami'ed the note into a plain square to pass back, and leant the way to Scott to give it to Stiles -

"______ ______, detention!" You heard Coach shout, "You too, Stilinski and McCall! This afternoon."

The rest of the class laughed, as Coach grinned to himself. "No note passing. You know what that means, _______, Scott, Stilinski; you gotta read it out to the class."

From the corner of your eye you saw Stiles sink in his chair in embarrassment with Scott following his lead, and you, feeling bold, stood.

"It was my note, Coach," you lied. "I'll read it."

He laughed. "Alright, _______, taking the fall, come to the front to read aloud. Class, welcome ______,"

The sound of bored clapping from your classmates egged you forward, and soon you were just standing there, at the front, note in hand. Your eyes wandered back to the inert Scott and Stiles who looked to you with a sort of urgency. Stiles especially.

"I, uh, I wrote this note to Stiles," you told the economics class, "Because I felt left out, and I wrote that right here," you pointed to the paper, "My group aren't here today, big let down." The class knew you were lying though. It was a fact everyone new instantly knew; you weren't a loner ... you were a solo girl, no binding of a group for you. And it wasn't like you were friendless; friends were people who understood your space and how to respect that. "And my buddy Stiles here wrote back, want to sit with us at lunch, which is sweet. And since I didn't get to write back, Stiles - yeah, I'll sit with you guys."

Applause filled the class along with a wolf whistle thanks to Scott and over it all somehow, Coached yelled, "Alright, back to your seats, settle down."

You made your way back to your desk, and at settling down, you turned to see Stiles winking at you.

"Thanks _______," he grinned.

You shrugged. "No biggie. I know how embarrassing confessing a crush is. And don't worry," you said, looking at his shocked expression, "I like you too. Come on, let's pay attention before Coach gives us a double detention."