the-bear-&-the-gang

Punk!Person A/Pastel!Person B Prompts

- “I have to introduce you to my friends and you look like a teddy bear compared to our biker gang looking group, oh god.” AU

- “I have to introduce you to my friends and you look like you could murder all of us with your eyeliner and black leather, they will be terrified.” AU

- “You are trying to fit in with me as a super punk kid and honestly you’re trying so hard but jesus does it look bad.” AU

- “You came over to my house and forgot a shirt. Wait, all of my shirts are really bright, pastel shirts and I’m so sorry you have to wear these.” AU

- “Everytime people see us messing around they think you’re bullying me because you look hard af. And now they think those hickeys you gave me are bruises…” AU

- “We have to do a couple’s costume for something and we decide to dress up as each other and you keep getting intimidated by me because I’m not wearing only light colors for once.” AU

- “Even though you look really intimadating you still get picked on and now you’re screaming because I punched your bully directly in the face. Oh great, my favorite pastel pink shirt has blood on it now.” AU

- “I forgot to mention I got a tongue piercing awhile ago and you start screaming while we were making out.” AU

- “We sit next to each other in class and both doodle a crap ton on our papers. Even though you’re super punk you’re doodling little cute hearts and I’m drawing skulls and other dark stuff and everyone is really confused.” AU
Okay gang, bear with me because I'm going to talk to you about a glorious dumpster fire of a Shakespeare play called Henry VI part 3 and why I love it.

This is a boring sounding title, but it is SO NOT a boring play.

This thing is almost unperformable. It has more battle scenes than any other Shakespeare play. It has the longest soliloquy in all of his plays. It has over 40 characters in it. Many of them die. The characters and events depicted in it are indecipherable to American audiences, who probably have never really learned about the Wars of the Roses.The same two guys keep getting crowned and kicked off the throne in dizzying succession. I just saw a fittingly wack rendition of it performed in a pub with actors openly drinking beer onstage and changing name tags and hats to indicate which characters they were playing, which I think is fully in the spirit of the play, and I want to talk about why I’m so fond of it.

Anyway, you all know that I am obsessed with Richard III. I directed the play. I wrote a NaNoWriMo novel based on it. WELL, that play makes a whole lot more sense, and several of the characters have more depth, if you’ve also read Henry VI part 3… like, yeah, there are two other parts before that, but if your aim is understanding Richard’s role in the story, this play is the ‘villain origin story’ that brings him to the point of his famous opening speech in the play named after him– the speech in which he plots to murder his way to the throne, eliminating any family members standing in his way without a second thought.

But near the very end of this very raw, rough early play of his, Shakespeare manages to condense Richard’s self-loathing, rejection of family ties, and motivation into a few short lines that, in my mind, are even more effective than the entire 'Now is the winter of our discontent’ speech:

“Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so,
Let hell make crook’d my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother;
And this word 'love,’ which graybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another
And not in me: I am myself alone.”

The 'rejection of family’ thing is especially powerful because, having read and seen Richard III first, I had certain preconceived notions of Richard’s family dynamics. I had assumed that Richard was treated like an outcast and inferior by his family because of his deformity, and that his older brothers, Edward and George, were portrayed as virtuous compared to him, based on the way characters talk about them in Richard III.

Instead, when Richard bursts onstage in the first scene of 3HenryVI, it is to impress his father with a trophy of war, who compliments him and says “Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.” His older brother, Edward, who will later become Edward IV, brought a comparatively meager relic of war, and George isn’t even there.

Throughout the early scenes, Richard consistently impresses us with his bravery, wit, daring, and combat skill. He is… cool. Compared to him, Edward looks weak, whiny, unprincipled, useless (he gets captured and needs to be rescued by Richard) and a total skeeze who puts his personal life ahead of battles and grants mercy at the wrong times. George looks like a double-crossing, weak-willed, indecisive, and materialistic crybaby who barely appears in battle. In such a time of brutal war, Richard’s incredibly cruel and violent personality makes him look HEROIC. The three brothers may disagree, but they also support each other and seem to care about each other. Richard is in no way excluded- he leads the way. All three brothers equally participate in the murder of the Lancaster crown prince– one that Richard is blamed for in “Richard III.” He claims the prince was slain by Edward, which is played as a lie, but if you look at Henry VI part 3, Edward did strike first. This makes more sense as to why all three brothers are cursed by Queen Margaret in the next play.

And what’s more, nobody in his family ever draws attention to his disability, even when squabbling with him. It’s only the people on the opposing side of the battle who bring it up, constantly taunting him for his deformities. If he comes to see himself as an irredeemable monster whose body reflects his mind, it wasn’t brought on by how his family treated him. There’s sadistic behavior on both sides of the war, but Richard is the only major player who is physically unhandsome, and therefore the easiest to demonize.

We also see a young Richard deal with serious trauma from the horrifying murder of his brother Rutland (portrayed as a little brother and a child in the play, though he was older in history) and his father. When he gets revenge on the people who did these deeds, we feel good about it. He even angrily confronts the man who did it for being a murderer of children– ironic if you know what he’s going to get up to in the future.

It’s when his brother Edward becomes king that the real divide happens between the York brothers. The bond of war that united them instead divides them, as Edward and George become preoccupied with matters of love, sex, and money, and Richard realizes that the world holds no potential pleasures for him except for angling for power.

Killing is all he is really good at– he’s been fighting since he was a kid and has been praised for it, but those qualities that made him an admirable warrior are distasteful in peacetime, especially when civil wars have been tentatively smoothed over. In court, the disfigured little brother has no real place to shine. He was a kid who was totally desensitized to violence very, very early in life.

Also? Queen Margaret, who I played in Richard III, has a much bigger role in this play– and much more sadistic than she appears in Richard III. She’s SUPER vile, and the only character to appear in all four Wars of the Roses plays. And she wears armor and commands armies. I love her. At one point, a character says to her incompetent king husband, “I would your highness would depart the field: The queen hath best success when you are absent.” It’s a pity Shakespeare used his most formidable female character this early in his career.

This play is totally wack, but there’s so much great stuff going on with it, and I really urge people to read it if they’re interested in Richard III. The Hollow Crown did a shortened version of it (Though it’s called Part 2 there), and I really want to see the American Shakespeare Center’s production of it this fall.

kittylirious  asked:

How about Evan as an adorable and pure™ nerd and meeting everyone else as punk jocks™. And maybe he falls in love with the leader Jonathan??? oooh. spicy.

How the fuck do high schools work in America, idek


“Evan, may I speak to you.” His history teacher called while the remaining students rushed out of the classroom to lunch.

“Y-y-yes miss?” He stuttered, adjusting his black framed glasses once more before standing straight up.

“Evan, as you may know, there is a specific group in our school that… causes disturbances here and there.” They used some hand gestures to exaggerate her point.

“But, as much as their attendance is strong in a sense… Collectively, their grades are dropping which could lead to their expulsion altogether. We understand that they are very popular with everyone and if they heard the news… well let’s say it’ll be very similar to what we learnt today.” 

Evan flinched at the recent memory, they both knew that they learn about the French Revolution. He questioned if the school was really going to be that crazy if the gang left.

“So, we teachers have decided to put you as their tutor for the next few weeks or until their grades have improved at the very least.” 

His eyes widen from the heavy responsibility now put on his shoulders. Evan’s mouth opened wide to refuse but stopped when his teacher raised her hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry Evan Fong, if you are struggling to compromise with them, we’ll put you out. Your schedule will temporary change so that you can fit in some time to have some of your normal classes. Your grades won’t change too so there isn’t much that you’re losing.” He clenched his teeth, giving a sigh of exhaustion and nodding in agreement.

“Thank you for your time, Evan. You may leave now.”


“Oi, did you hear ‘bout the news guys?” Lui walked into their normal hangout area, underneath the metal seats of their sporting grounds (are they called bleachers or something? idk), before grabbing another handful of gummy bears to devour once more.

“Hmph, yeah. We gotta hang out with a dumb nerd or else we’ll all get cut off.” Brian parted his red-dyed hair away from his eyes, his answer caught the attention of the others.

“We also got a new schedule, check it.” Lui grabbed a piece of crumpled paper from his jacket pocket and threw it towards Jon who caught it like it was nothing. He straightened it out before scanning the new timetable.

“His name’s Evan Fong.” Lui’s voice was muffled due to another mouthful of gummy bears but the gang understood what he said.

“Oh yeah, he’s in my chemistry class. Quiet but he knows his stuff, that’s for sure.” Brock commented, tapping his temple to prove his point further. 

“It’s us against one weak ass, I suggest we let this nerd know who’s boss.” Marcel stood up, dragging his signature baseball bat across the grass as he started to hunt down the nerd.

“Marcel, that’s enough. We’ll get cut before we even get the chance to meet our new… teacher.” Jon said. All eyes were on him now, looking at him as if he just went crazy.

“Let’s give him a chance, my orders. You got that?”


“Oi!” A sudden slam on the table made Evan jump. He turned around to see that, surprisingly, the entire gang was standing there, staring him down.

“You Evan Fong?” One of them bent over to have a closer look at him. They had sky blue eyes and slightly tanned skin. His uniform shirt was more open, giving a sneak peak of his well-toned body to Evan. Evan may or may not have blushed as he nodded. 

“Good. Let’s give this thing a shot alright?” They all sat around the same table, now waiting for Evan to start.


“HA! SUCK IT NOGLA! I GOT IT RIGHT!” Wildcat screamed as Nogla pretended to lay dead on the table. Evan didn’t expect to have such a quick connection with the group and yet here he was, laughing at the group’s shenanigans. 

“Who’s up for lunch boys? We can get some Mc Donald’s down here alright?” Jon announced.

“Last one there has to buy for Jon!” Marcel challenged, running away first to have an advantage before the rest followed on and leaving Jon and Evan alone in the classroom.

“So, you coming with us?” Jon asked, helping Evan clean up the classroom. 

“Oh no… I usually eat alone and do my work so I prefer to…” Evan tried to remain his cool around Jon but the blushes on his cheeks were betraying him. 

“It’s alright Evan, I understand if you got some nerd stuff to do. We should eat together though sooner or later, alright?” 

“Yeah sure… I would love to.” Evan chuckled at the idea of eating together with the others, he knew it would definitely be more fun. 

“Also, one more thing..” Jon quickly grabbed Evan by the waist with one hand, lifting his head by the chin with the other. The sudden position made Evan blush harder than a tomato would, shivers tingling down his spine and words fading away at the tip of his tongue. 

“Thanks for the lesson.” He leant his head down to interlock lips into a small yet heartwarming kiss…


[Requests are open]

anonymous asked:

Hi! This is such a cute little blog. Can you do a reaction post on the hosts reacting to their SO finding out they sleep with a teddy bear because of their traumatised past?

//Thank you! I hope to keep this blog active. I’m still quite new to Tumblr so I’m still getting the hang of it all. But thank you for my first ask! It’s made me so happy! Hopefully I can do all the hosts for you ^^“\ 

 ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ Teddy Bear Imagines ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ 

 Tamaki: 
 He’d be a little bit like Honey with his own brown bear, Kuma-chan. He uses his Kuma-chan as a comfort thing too so he would be completely understanding. In fact, he’d even start drawing the two teddy bears together instead of just his on his own on any notes etc. Like Honey, he would insist you use Kuma-chan if you ever lost your own teddy. But he would also scour the entire area just to find your teddy! Especially when he found out the reason behind why you are so attached to your teddy bear. “My dear Princess, you have nothing to be afraid of when you’re with me. I will keep away those night terrors. With the power of our teddies combined; we will remain safe throughout the night!” He would cry out majestically! 


Kyoya:
He would be a little annoyed at first (especially since Tamaki and Honey do the same thing at the host club) because he expected a more ‘mature’ side from you. However, as you patiently explain to him the importance of the teddy bear, he will begin to understand. He’d even be calmly pissed (yes that’s a thing with Kyoya!) about the thought of such a lovely person having suffered something so horrific if it’s left the need to seek comfort that he can’t obviously give. When you’re lying in bed and he can feel you pat around bed for the teddy, he will quietly reach it and place it in your searching hands. Not saying a word to each other, but the mutual understanding is there. He’d still hold you (and your teddy) against him throughout the night. And yes, if you happen to go on vacation and forget your teddy, he will order the car to be turned around (or one of his service men) to go collect teddy. Naturally, he’d be annoyed. To keep up his appearance. But deep down, he’d understood. 


Honey:
Expect Teddy Bear picnics with lots of cake! Honestly, Honey wouldn’t mind one bit. He’d be ecstatic that Usa-chan has a friend to sleep with too! You would all be a big sleeping ball of warm fluffy cuddles! However, Honey would cry when he heard about your traumatic past. How could anyone hurt someone so lovely!? If you ever forgot your teddy, Honey would immediately give you Usa-chan until you both could find yours. 


Mori:
He would be more protective of you than you are of your teddy bear! Especially once he found out about your past trauma. Just like he does with Honey, he would always look out for you and your teddy. Making sure your teddy will always be near you and nothing happened to it. If you were ever upset, he would comfort you by wrapping his arms around you and handing your teddy to you; having both of you wrapped in his arms in a quiet, comforting embrace.

Kaoru: He’d tease you (jokingly) at first but once he found out about the seriousness of the situation, he’d understand. He’d find it quite cute and adorable seeing the two of you snuggled together on the couch or the bed. He’d probably never understand the full importance of such a stuffed bear, but he would still be understanding with you. He’d probably even snuggle your teddy if he was ever ill and missing your presence while you were away (at school or something). And on brighter days, he’d play games like ‘Come and get Teddy!’ By holding teddy up above your head, slightly out of your reach.

Hikaru: Upon seeing her curl up to your teddy rather than him, he would be annoyed and upset. After all, isn’t here there for you to seek comfort in him rather than competing against a stupid stuffed bear? Despite his obvious annoyance, you open up and tell him the reason behind it. Hikaru becomes quiet as he takes in what you said and tries to understand. He’ll probably never fully understand, but he does try and sympathises with your past trauma. Only, he’s even more annoyed now knowing that there were people out there who have hurt you. 


 Haruhi: Much like Mori, she isn’t fazed by the need of having something to self-comfort with. It really is no different to her having a preferred pen to write with. So she certainly won’t judge. She knows what it’s like to seek comfort in something when you’re scared or lonely. She would listen to you and sympathise with your past, and would take it into consideration in the future (making sure your teddy is always packed if you’re going away on holiday). Being the domesticated woman she is, she would also hand-wash teddy every now and then to help keep him clean and preserve him longer. She could only hazard a guess as to how many nights your teddy has soaked up your tears. 

*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・’ BONUS '・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・* 

 Kasanoda:
Tehe, this bumbling sweetheart wouldn’t mind if you had a teddy bear to cuddle with at night. He’d probably blush more because he thought it was the cutest! Hearing the reason behind the need for the teddy bear, he would have his gang protect you and escort you wherever you went. And he’d not only pledge to protect you, he’d also pledge to protect the teddy bear too.

Nekozawa:
//eep I’m not confident with this character! Forgive me!!!!\
He would immediately put Teddy through a welcome/pledge to the darkness kind of ritual. He would also put a curse on Teddy. A curse that is sweet in a way. The curse would be for any of those people who have or going to wrong/harm you in any way, they will be cursed. He will even lurk in the darkness to witness the consequences of the curse; to make sure that they are getting what they deserve for harming his beloved. 

PTB Protect our ( Jorah ) BEAR

Originally posted by knights-of-alcoholism

Here we go gang a new season upon us - let’s all combine our positive energy in hopes and wish to keep our BEAR safe 

Originally posted by blog-ofthrones

Originally posted by natureandself

I saw the Bronn gals had already banded together - good thinking ladies and good luck to your fella too…

Just Admit It *smut*

Author: obrosey-af

Characters: reader x Stiles

Word count: 3,234

Warnings: literally just sex, nothing intense

Thank you tazzmariee for the request, I hope you like it(:

A/N: I’ve been really into writing smut that isn’t as rough as I usually write it lately, so let me know if you’re into that. As usual, let ya girl know whatchya think. -Er  *Masterlist*

Originally posted by moan-s


One by one, your friends trickle in thru the main doors of Beacon Hills High. Your morning routine is pretty simple. Everyone goes to their lockers right away, whoever is done first goes to the closest friend and so on. Kira slammed her locker door and, being the tiny ball of energy she was this early in the morning, skipped over to you, greeting you with her signature bear hug. The gang met up at Scott’s locker and the morning banter began.

“I’m pretty sure I failed the econ test yesterday,” you sighed as you picked at your nail beds.

“There were so many numbers and problems in it, I felt like it was a math test,” Kira whined.

“Wait, that wasn’t math class?” Isaac walks up behind, completely bewildered.

Everyone laughed just as Stiles came strolling in. His hair was a disheveled mess, like usual, and his backpack hung low on one shoulder as he fumbled through it, nearly running into Scott.

“Hey man, wake up late?” Scott joked, basically stating the obvious.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, kinda,” Stiles laughed slightly, still looking through his bag.

When he looked up, he locked eyes with you. You smiled shyly, like you always have around him, and he made no facial expression, per usual.

“Hi Stiles,” you decided to pipe up for once instead of smiling nervously and looking away.

“Yeah, hey y/n,” he said briskly before turning his attention to, big surprise, Lydia.

You’ve had a crush on Stiles for a few months now and you’ve been friends for much longer than that. However, Stiles has been paying so much more attention to Lydia and paying significantly less attention to you. Of course you knew Stiles didn’t like you the way you liked him, it was obvious to anyone with eyes and common sense. He liked Lydia. It’s always been Lydia.

“Hey Lyds,” Stiles chimed, his attitude increasing immensely as he slung his arm over her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

You glance around at your group of friends in time to see Scott looking at you. Based on his facial expression, he was either searching for chemosignals from you or trying to do his weird werewolf-ey mind reading thing he swears is real. You’d recognize that face anywhere. He realized you were watching him back and he snapped out of his trance. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows. He then looked over at Stiles and then back to you. Crap. His face immediately lit up as he grinned back and forth between you two; Stiles naturally not noticing since Lydia is standing right next to him. You could feel the heat from you blushing moving from your cheeks down to your neck.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go to class,” you announced, “Not that you care,” you said with a much quieter voice, looking directly at Stiles. You turned on your heel and walked away so fast you’re almost positive you left skid marks on the tile floor. You wouldn’t look back though because your eyes would naturally be drawn to Stiles and why torture yourself even more, right?

Later that day, you climbed up on your stool in physics and plopped your bag down on the floor. You twiddled your thumbs, nervous about the pop quiz Kira told you about when you met halfway between your english class and the physics room she just left. Scott strolled in without a care in the world, wait till he hears about the quiz, and takes his assigned seat next to you. After this morning, you don’t dare make eye contact. That will only make you more nervous and more susceptible to his werewolf crap. Awaiting the inevitable questions Scott was going to grill you with, you looked over to see him staring at you with a goofy grin on his face.

“If you do that long enough, your face will get stuck like that,” you brush him off as if you don’t know what he’s thinking, even though you obviously do.

“You like Stiles,” he simply states, that stupid smile still plastered on his face.

“I do not,” you replied nonchalantly, turning your attention to your notebook, remembering there was a quiz in literally three minutes.

“Yes you do, y/n, I smelled you this morning,” he exclaims, turning his whole body to face you.

“Do you know how weird that sounds, Scott?” you ask, keeping your focus on your notes.

Scott reaches over and snatches your notebook, flipping it closed before placing it in front of him.

“Hey!” you try to grab for the book, but Scott pushes it further away.

“Admit that you like him and I’ll give it back,” he says sternly, holding your hand down on the table to restrain you from trying to get it back.

“Why?” you asked, pulling your hand out of his grasp. He shoots you a confused look before relaxing back into his seat. “What will me admitting it change? It won’t turn me into Lydia,” you huffed, rubbing your index finger between two others; one of your annoying habits you do when you’re nervous.

“So you do like him,” Scott exclaimed, bright eyes looking down on you.

“Jesus Christ Scott, maybe you should say that louder, I don’t think they heard you mexico,” you whispered shouted, flailing your arms in an attempt to cover his mouth.

“I knew it,” he smiled, pushing your hands away, dropping your notebook back on the table in front of you.

You dramatically picked it up from the table and started searching for the page you were on previously.

“Why don’t you tell him, y/n?” Scott asks.

“I think we’ve established that I’m not Lydia,” you gesture at your face.

“What? Y/N, Stiles doesn’t like Lydia,” Scott exclaims, shaking his head, the smug smile only growing wider, “He likes you!”

“Yeah, and I’m a fucking mermaid,” you scoffed, shutting your notebook when the teacher walked in holding a stack of papers containing your impending doom; aka, the pop quiz.

“Y/N, that’s a cover, even Lydia knows it,” he blurts out, “Do you know how nervous you make him? He can barely look at you for more than five seconds without his hands getting all sweaty and clammy.”

“Scott, I know he likes Lydia, I’m not blind,” you explain.

Before Scott could protest any further, the teacher announces that you have a quiz made up by Satan himself, not her words of course, and instructed everyone to stop talking and to remove everything from their tables.

“This isn’t over,” Scott whispers as he begins writing his name at the top of his paper.

Later at lunch, you met up with with your friends at your usual table outside. As soon as you walked up, everyone immediately stopped their conversation and looked up at you.

“What’re you weirdos talking about?” you asked, taking a seat next to Isaac on the end of the bench.

“You,” Isaac snickers, followed by a yelp as he jerked his body when someone kicked him under the table. You’re sure it was Scott, based on the glare he’s sending Isaac’s way.

“What about me?”

Silence. Not just any silence either, the awkward silence where everyone nervously looks around at each other, desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“What the hell were you talking about?” you snap, shooting glares around the table.

“Dude, just tell her,” Scott address to Stiles.

Stiles, who clearly didn’t expect Scott to say that, whipped his head to face his best friend, giving him the scariest death stare anyone’s received in the past three minutes.

“Tell me what?” you raise your voice, this time addressing Stiles directly. When no one said anything else, you pushed up from the picnic table and threw your backpack over your shoulder. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Y/N, stop, just listen,” Scott pleaded, shooting you his big, brown puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t even want to know anymore, Scott, I really don’t care,” you snapped before turning on your heel and striding away.

Stiles

Hey can I come over?

The message flashed across your phone screen, illuminating your cave of a bedroom. You ignored it, setting the phone back down next to you on the screen. Your eyes went back to the book you’re reading when your cell buzzed again.

Stiles

Please?

Me

Not home

You typed your response quickly before dropping the phone back on the bed. You barely had a chance to pick up your book before it vibrated again. With a huff, you picked it up and nearly choked on the air when you inhaled sharply.

Stiles

I’m outside

Shit. You jumped off the bed and looked through the white, translucent curtains hanging across the window. Just like he said, Stiles was standing in your driveway, leaning against the driver side door of his beat up blue jeep. You raced downstairs, skipping the last two at the bottom and swung the front door open. Stiles looked over and gave you a shy smile before pushing off the car and making his way up the front steps to you.

“Hi,” he smiles with his eyes.

“Hi,” you reply with absolutely zero enthusiasm in your voice.

“Can we talk?” he asks his stupid, adorable brown eyes widening.

Without a word, you reluctantly stepped to the side so Stiles could squeeze past. Stiles followed you down a hallway that led to the living room in the back of the house and sat down next to you on the couch.

“If this is about what Scott said at lunch, I told him I don’t care,” you explained, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s not just about lunch, it’s about everything,” Stiles sighed, turning his whole body to face you.

“What’re you talking about Stiles?” you sighed, completely annoyed with him already. There wasn’t the tiniest bit of hope inside you that Stiles liked you. You assume that Scott told him about physics today and he’s here to let you down easy.

“Look, just hear me out okay?” Stiles pleaded, running his fingers through his hair.

“Stiles, I don’t care about earlier, so drop it,” you snapped.

“Jesus, y/n, can you stop talking for like two seconds?” He shouted and it made you flinch. “God, do you know how infuriating you can be sometimes?”

“Excuse me?” you ask, completely confused about what the hell is going on. “How am I infuriating?”

“You always assume you know what people are going to say,” he snapped.

I do not,” you shot back defensively.

“You assumed I came here to talk about what happened at lunch,” he raised his eyebrows, knowing very well that he was right.

“Well didn’t you?” you raised your voice, throwing your hands up in defeat.

Stiles shot up from his seat and paced back and forth a couple times from the couch to the window. “I don’t know why I even came here,” he stops and puts his hands low on his hips.

“Maybe you should leave then,” you huffed, sitting back into the couch.

Stiles gave you a look you have never seen before. He was smiling, but you could tell he was either mad or annoyed; more than likely both. He took a deep breath and for a second you weren’t sure if he was going to breath fire. He held back whatever he was going to say and sighed, pacing again. “I don’t even know why I like you,” he scoffs just loud enough for you to hear.

“You what?” you questioned, not totally sure if you heard his right.

“I like you, y/n,” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, “and I can read you the Pros and Cons list I made about it like three months ago.”

“You like Lydia…” you said in a tone that wasn’t completely sure if you were telling him or asking him.

“I. Like. You,” he paused in between each word, now standing still and staring at you.

You were at a complete loss for words. You were mentally beating yourself up because Stiles Stilinski just told you that he likes you and all you want to ask him is ‘why?’

“Let’s hear it then,” you shrugged your shoulders, raising your eyebrows to let him know you’re listening.

“Wait, what?” he asked with surprise in his voice.

“The Pros and Cons list, I wanna hear it,” you demanded.

This time, it was Stiles who didn’t know what to say. He slowly walked over and sat down on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of you. “Which do you want first?” he asked.

“Cons,” you replied, after thinking for a moment.

Stiles took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes. This was probably a bad idea, you thought.

“Well for starters, you’re bossy as hell and you’re a complete know it all,” he couldn’t help but smile when he saw your dumbfounded expression.

“Keep going…” you shook your head.

“You’re a bad listener, you hardly let someone get a word in sometimes,” he continued, “and you wear that goddamn dress with the black and white stripes that’s all flowy and shit,” he flails his arms around his head.

“How is that a con?” you asked, refering to the last statement.

“Because,” he paused, looking at the ceiling, “because I have to see you in it and it kills me,” his voice softened at the end.

“What’re the pros?” you asked, sinking deeper into the couch.

“How much time do you have, it’s kinda a long list,” he smiled shyly, causing your face to heat up, probably turning red as well.

“Well,” he began when you didn’t respond, “you’re insanely beautiful…like…really beautiful,” he said with a blush. “You always know when something’s wrong with me, like even before Scott notices and you always make sure I’m okay.”

It was getting harder to look at Stiles because all you wanted to do was lurch into his arms, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“You’re smart, y/n, practically a genius,” he complemented.

“I am not,” you smiled and shook your head.

“You are. I know I said you’re a know it all, but most of the time, you’re right about it,” he said, “Sometimes you even know what I’m thinking or feeling before I know.”

“I can’t believe you memorized your list,” you said, trying to change the subject.

“I didn’t,” he smiled.

“What do you mean?”

He stood up and leaned over you, pinning his hands on either side of your head on the back of the couch, his face inches from yours.

“Whenever I see you, y/n, I think of at least twenty new reasons why I like you,” he smiled.

He then dipped his head lower and pressed his lips to yours. It took you a second to wrap your head about what was happening. Stiles pulled back, searching your eyes for any reaction. You cupped his cheeks in your hands, pressing your lips back to his, harder than he had before. Stiles began to pull away again, but this time he held your hands and pulled you up from the couch, never letting your lips break from each others. He wrapped his arms around your lower back and held you tightly against his abdomen. Your broke the kiss and tugged him back down the hallway and up the stairs. As close of friends as you and Stiles once were, he had never seen your bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and looked around. The opposite wall from the door was adorned with three tall bookshelves, lined with rows of books upon books upon books. The floor in front was cluttered with two stacks of books as well. To his left, your bed rested in the corner of the room, multiple blankets and pillows scattered amongst it. The only light was the faint glow of white string lights that hung around the entire perimeter of your room up where the wall met the ceiling. When Stiles looked over, he noticed you watching take it all in.

“What’s the face for?” you asked, nervously, scooting closer to the edge of your bed.

“I knew you liked to read, I just didn’t know how much,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, it’s a little ridiculous, it-it’s dumb,” you stuttered, looking away from the brown eyed boy.

“Don’t do that,” he sighed, walking over and sitting next to you.

“Do what?” you asked.

He cupped your cheek to make you look at him and his smile practically melted your heart. “Don’t say something you love so much is dumb, because it’s not.”

He pulled your face closer and planted his lips on yours. You began scooting back on the bed, guiding Stiles back with you. He hovered over you, holding himself up on his forearms. You toyed at the hem of his shirt and he sat up and yanked it over his head, haphazardly tossing it to the side. Resuming the kiss, he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you granted him access, allowing him to intensify the kiss. He gently dropped his body down closer to yours and ever so slowly started to roll his hips against your body, feeling the apparent bulge every now and again. The make out session picked up and before you knew it, you were laying there naked and feeling completely exposed, watching Stiles push his khakis and boxers off his hips together and kick them to the side. He crawled back up the bed lingering over your bed and start placing open mouth kissed across your jaw linr and down your neck. You fingers fluttered down his chest, trailing all the way down his stomach and along the trail of hair that led to his lower v. His breath hitched against your skin as you took hold of his length and gently pumped from the base to the tip. His lips found yours again. Stiles moved his hand down, covering yours while you still had hold of his member. He lined himself up with his entrance and looked down at you. With his left elbow being his only support to hold himself above you, he bent his wrist down and brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes and smiled sweetly. He slowly pushed into you and watched as your eyes slammed closed, trying hard to suppress any noise. After giving you a few second to adjust to him, he started grinding his body into yours, getting into a steady rhythm. Stiles moaned against my lips, picking up his pace. You felt yourself coming undone underneath him as he pulled you closer to the edge. His breath quickened and he was coming shortly after. He continued to thrust into you to help you reach your climax, before you were coming as well. Stiles took a second to catch his breath and pulling out and carefully laying down next to you. He wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest and he held you tighter by resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Just so we’re clear…you don’t like Lydia?” you joked.

“Shut up,” Stiles smirked, kissing the top of your head.