A prompt for you! Stiles/Jackson, secret admirer trope with Jackson as the admirer
Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore Rating: T, Word Count: Fluff, Secret Admirer, Pining Jackson, No Werewolves, Jackson POV ♥ Read on AO3
It started by accident. Or rather, an accident. Stiles managed to destroy
his sunglasses and because Stiles was, well, Stiles, he kept forgetting to buy new ones. After almost a week of listening
to Stiles complain to Scott about the sun blinding him on his way home and
surely getting into an accident, Jackson had shoved a pair of his own
sunglasses in Stiles’ backpack when Stiles wasn’t looking. Stiles had found the
glasses shortly and immediately freaked out because he thought he’d
accidentally stolen someone’s ridiculously expensive and preppy—Stiles’ words,
Jackson had quickly scribbled a note and
sneaked it into Stiles’ locker. He’d waited around the corner for Stiles to find
the note. The note read: Stop freaking
out, the sunglasses are for you. I heard you broke yours and I prefer you to
stay in one piece am sick of hearing you complain.
Stiles’ mouth had ticked up into a small,
private smile, then he carefully folded up the note and put it in his wallet. Jackson’s
heart had stumbled at the sight. He knew he liked Stiles, he’s not an oblivious
idiot, but he’d never realized how much he wanted to make Stiles smile.
After that, Jackson just kept being nice
to Stiles, luring that smile, and sometimes even a laugh out of him. At first,
he’d bought things he knew Stiles wanted: video games, movies, a new set of
headphones—he would’ve bought Stiles a new car if Stiles wasn’t so ridiculously
attached to that crappy blue Jeep—but he soon found that the expensive gifts
made Stiles uncomfortable, grateful, but uncomfortable. So he switched over to
more traditional things like flowers and notes, and a handful of pens dumped in
Stiles’ locker whenever he’d forgets to bring one from home or chews through
the one he does bring.
Sour cherry - an obscure tradition from my family… whenever me or my sister are sad, we will send each other a ridiculous picture of me in a hideous jumper my mum bought me for christmas one time. It’s like saying I love you and itll be okay and at least you arent wearing this without words
Socks - describe my taste in clothing… I may have used the words punky preppy nerd with @i-blame-this-on-sherlock earlier. It works.