Stiles got ratted out by the Realm Guard for sneaking off with Scott a total of seven times before his dad buckled, promising sabbatical once Stiles reached Faehood, and enough Earth culture in the meantime to have him talking like a born-and-bred Californian teenager.
He just didn’t have the tan.
(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)
Not my gif. Gif credit goes to the amazing creator.
@awesomedaisyisd said: Hey, can I please request a Stiles imagine where the reader is crying in art class when her teacher expects their drawings to look exactly like the still life that he set up for the class, and Stiles notices and pulls her aside and she tries to hide that she's crying but he notices and comforts her after she tells him?
A/N: You certainly can! I’m not an artist in the sense that I draw, so I hope that I portrayed this correctly; I imagine it’d be quite frustrating to not be able to copy something exactly. This was a really cute request, thank you for it and I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with - Admin Erika 💖
Imagine: Crying in art class and Stiles comforting you.
You were sat in the back of the classroom, next to Stiles, and the room was quiet save for the sounds of scratching pencils on paper and sighs of frustration or the occasional mutter of “I’m so bored.”
The task in class was to draw a bowl of fruit, and you had managed to accurately outline the bowl, and now you were starting on the outline of the pear to the left of the bowl. You had managed to get the top of the pear on point, and now you were attempting to draw one of the curves of the ripe fruit.
But there was just one part you could not get right. Your pencil just was not coordinating with the image in your mind of how you wanted it to go. You gritted your teeth, raw determination boiling in your blood, but before long you threw down your eraser, having had enough of rubbing out lines. You’d rubbed out so many lines in the same place that the already thin paper was almost wearing away. Any more and the paper would split.
You threw the eraser down on the floor and sat down with a huff, aware in the back of your mind that you were acting childish and no doubt making a fool out of yourself. You felt hot tears of frustration prick your eyes and cascade down your cheeks, hot and heavy. You clenched your fists under the table, trying to rein in your temper, which was flaring, the flames of determination born from frustration licking at the base of your spine.
Beside you, Stiles was bored, his foot tapping against the bar of his stool, his arms crossed and his eyes flicking around the room, lingering on the clock and sighing. His eyes flicked to you, taking in your tense form and clenched fists, angry tears on your cheeks, which you brushed away impatiently.
He looked away and then double-took, glancing at the teacher to see if they’d noticed your state.The teacher was still attending to another student, and was obviously too busy to see what was wrong with Y/N.
He sighed, leaning forward and tapping you once on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”
You wiped your tears away with shaky fingers, though your gestures were jerky and impatient. “Yeah. Fine.”
Stiles was slightly taken aback. “Jeez, sorry.”
You sighed harshly. “No, I’m sorry. You’re only trying to help.”
“Yeah, trying.” Stiles smirked and you gave a small huff of laughter. “So what’s wrong?”
You glanced back at your artwork. “I can’t get this bit,” you gestured with your finger, “right. The curve isn’t going the way it should. I’ve tried so many times and it just isn’t working.”
“Well, how many times have you been frustrated with something but you’ve done it anyway and it’s turned out fine?”
You shifted in your seat, starting to calm down now. You’d always liked Stiles. “So... just draw it and leave it?”
Stiles nodded, looking as awkward as ever. “Well, yeah. Don’t start doubting yourself now, Y/N. Every artist finds something they dislike about their work, but that doesn’t mean that other people will hate it, right?” he gave you an awkward smile.
You nodded, feeling a wave of determination to get the curve of the pear right. “Right. Thank you, Stiles!”
He scratched the back of his neck, giving you a one-sided smile. “Sure.”
He watched as you turned back to your work, picking up the pencil and drawing on the curve. You gave out a triumphant noise as it seemed to look much better than it had on previous attempts, though you weren’t sure why, it looked the same as the others.
But whatever the reason was, the curve on the pear was now looking the way you had wanted it to look, and the reason was Stiles Stilinski.
Please keep requesting imagines. If you like it, follow for more.
It's a cold, snowy night and Stiles is halfway through his shift at the campus coffee shop when a tall, dark and handsome stranger walks in, one who seems unaware that he's being haunted by a wolf.
In which Stiles Stilinski sees the ghosts of animals with unfinished business, and Derek Hale is unaware that his dearly departed sister left a few things unfinished.
